Page 4 of Dumbstruck
“Would it have made a difference?” I knew she recognized me, but I enjoyed her disdain more than I should have. My only regret is that I didn’t flirt with her to see if it would make her mad, but she just gave me another opportunity.
Her scowl shifts to a glare, but though she opens her mouth, no words come out.
“Lunch break?” I ask, nodding in the direction of the hardware store.
She huffs. “Actually, yes.”
“And you decided to spend it with us instead of on the floor? I’m touched.” I’m not winning myself any favors by teasing her, but will that stop me? No. Her apparent dislike of me is a nice change from everyone catering to my every need.
As if on cue, the crew member from before stuffs an ice cold bottle of water into my hand right as I lift my hand to run it through my hair. It looks like I was anticipating the water, and I wince.
June scoffs as she eyes the bottle. “No, I’m here to support my friend.” She nods toward Bonnie. Toward theauthor.
I take a drink of water, trying to judge from her scowly expression if this really is a friendship or if she doesn’t like the way Bonnie is gazing at McAllister like he holds all the answers to the universe. “Friend, huh?”
Is this my pathetic way of ascertaining if June is single? Sure. But it’s too dangerous to ask a woman outright. I’ve had way too many people latch themselves on to me in the hopes of capitalizing on my fame, so I never let anyone know if I’m available. Even if I am.Soavailable.
I don’t even remember the last time I had a good date.
To my delight, June scoffs again and shakes her head. “Hank is a friend, yes. Besides, the internet is pretty convinced he and Bonnie are already a thing.”
I never believe a word websites likeHollywood Hot Scoopsay. According to the tabloid, Bonnie and the author are the next big thing, but they also ran a story about me being in Vegas recently, and I wasn’t even in Nevada. They don’t always get things right. “Do you read a lot of tabloids?” I ask, folding my arms again to match her guarded stance.
“Of course not.”
“So you haven’t read about me?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
I laugh. Her contempt is weirdly refreshing, though I shouldn’t be even more interested knowing she doesn’t like me. That’s a recipe for disaster right there. But something about her intrigued me the other day and hasn’t gone away. “You tell me,” I say. “You’re the one who came to talk to me, remember?”
“Because I wanted you to know that I’m annoyed you didn’t tell me who you are.”
This woman is quickly becoming the most interesting person I’ve ever met, and I shake my head at her with a grin. “June,” I say, leaning close once more, “I’m not the sort of guy who goes around introducing myself as a movie star.”
“Sure you’re not,” she replies, rolling her eyes.
“Hi,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’m Jonah James, popular actor and star of many a woman’s fantasies. Nice to meet you.” I snort out a laugh before I can get the last word out. “Is that how you think I should go about things?”
Though she grits her teeth and narrows her eyes, a smile plays at her mouth, and it’s enough to give me a boost of confidence. “What kind of name is that, anyway?” she asks after a long moment of silence. “Jonah James. You sound like an outlaw.”
I laugh. “You mean Jesse James?” Would it make her angrier if I told her that that’s exactly where I got the idea for my stage name? Probably. “If I tell you my real name, will you like me better?”
“I don’t care about your name.” But the curiosity in her eyes says otherwise.
I could play with that. Though I shouldn’t—it’s not like we would ever become something more than casual acquaintances before I’m off to my next project—I smirk at her and head toward where we’re filming. “If you’re extra nice to me,” I call back to her, “I might actually tell you what it is.”
“Don’t bother!” she calls back. But that curious look is still there, and I get the feeling this isn’t the last I’ve seen of June the hardware girl.
But first… I need to try to save this movie so I can save my career.
Chapter Three
June
Whenyougrowupin a city like Denver, it’s hard to imagine living in a town as small as Laketown, where there’s a single traffic light and the mayor knows everyone by name. And then there’s the privacy. Or lack of. Keeping a secret from your neighbors in a place like this requires being closed off and guarded.
Most of the time, I don’t mind being the town’s enigmatic spinster. All people know about me is that I rolled into town on fumes more than two years ago, bought the hardware store within a week of my arrival, and am content to stay single and independent.
