Page 48 of Dumbstruck
But instead of backing me up against the side of the trailer and claiming my mouth like I want him to, Jonah presses a gentle kiss to my forehead and breathes in deep. “I really am sorry about today. You deserve better than what I gave you.”
I let out a slow sigh. “I’m sorry I overreacted again.”
“You didn’t.” He kisses my forehead again. “The overreacting was all me. I’m going to do my best to make sure Jealous Jonah doesn’t make an appearance again. He’s awful.”
For some reason, that makes me laugh, and my anxiety slips away. Maybe we’ll be okay. “Were you really jealous ofHank? You’re way more attractive than him.”
“I’m not saying it was logical.” He’s beaming now, his eyes trailing over my face. “Do you really think I’m attractive?”
I scoff. “You’re ridiculous, is what you are.”
“I just need to be sure it’s me and not this outfit that does it for you.”
I take in his sweater and khakis, shaking my head. “I think I prefer regular Jonah, even if you make an adorable old man.”
He snorts. “Keep talking like that and I may have to dress like this every day. You’re welcome to anything you find in there,” he says, nodding toward the trailer behind me. “Clothes, snacks, unsigned copies of Hank’s books.”
“Books?” My eyebrows fly high. “As in more than one?”
Chuckling, Jonah drops my hand and opens the trailer door for me. “After the first one, I obviously needed to keep reading so I could find out if Gabrielle is going to end up with Captain Stacey.”
“Right?” I say that louder than I mean to, but I don’t care. I’m just glad I’m not the only one shipping the two characters. “Hank won’t tell me if it’s going to happen in the next book, and it’s driving me crazy.” And wow, it’s super attractive to hear a man saying something about romance in a book when he could have easily brought up the many murders in Hank’s series. Hearing Jonah praise Hank’s writing soothes the lingering pain caused by his jealousy earlier, and I’m not sure I’ve ever found him more attractive than I do right now. “Jonah James, you are…”
“Eager to spend the rest of the day talking to you, June Harper, but I’d rather not do it while wearing this sweater.” He smirks and holds out his hand to help me up the steps.
Climbing inside, I take in the space that is essentially Jonah’s home during filming. I find myself smiling, even if it’s not an elegant abode. His bed is neatly made in the back, all four of Hank’s books are stacked near the sink with a bookmark tucked halfway through the third one, and there are several pictures of Jonah’s family taped to the wall.
It’s all very cozy.
“I wouldn’t mind getting stuck in a trailer like this,” I say, grinning back at Jonah. “Way better than the props trailer.”
He narrows his eyes, his expression playful. “Let’s not joke about things like that, yeah? Although, I don’t think I would have minded getting trapped as much if you were stuck there with me. I’ll be back in a bit, okay? Seriously, help yourself to whatever.”
The instant he’s gone, I go straight for the drawers that hold his clothes. Might as well take advantage of his hospitality.
Chapter Fourteen
Jonah
IttakeslongerthanI’d like to get showered and changed, and I’m not happy about it. Richie is the first culprit, forcing me to stand by while he demands details from Dexter about our day in town. Then Beckett tries to pull me into a conversation about camera angles and closeups, even though he knows I’m terrible at that stuff. I think he’s missing Bonnie and the way she constantly offers suggestions for the scenes we’re filming, even if he’ll never admit it. Once I finally get to the showers that the bulk of the crew use, someone figures out what I’m doing, and there’s a small crowd of female staff waiting outside when I’m done. They come with a variety of excuses for why they are here, none of them very subtle.
One of them flat-out admits that she hoped I would step outside in a towel, though she and the others are thoroughly disappointed. With the number of photos that have made it to the tabloids from this field—the whole reason Bonnie and Hank are even in a publicity relationship in the first place—I wasn’t about to take any chances and brought my clothes in with me.
I am so lucky that the tabloid that has been plaguing Bonnie since filming started,Hollywood Hot Scoop, seems more interested in her than in me, and I haven’t had any stories circulate about me in a couple of weeks. The longer I can keep June away from them, the better. It’s going to be hard enough to move forward with her as it is, and I can’t imagine her being okay with the spotlight.
People in my career make relationships work all the time, so I just have to figure out how to keep June’s private life private. More importantly, I need to figure out how to have time for her when I’m almost constantly filming. No big deal.
By the time I make it to my trailer with a couple of dinners wrapped in tinfoil, courtesy of catering, I half expect June to have given up on me and gone home. But there she is, curled up on my couch and snoring lightly. My heart twists at the sight of her so relaxed in my space, and when I realize she’s wearing one of my sweatshirts, the ball of lead inside me ignites, going molten almost instantly.
I want this. With June. I want to come home after a day of work and know she’ll be there waiting for me in a stolen hoodie. I want to bring her food and make her feel safe and listen to whatever ideas she has forming in her brain. I want her to give me her censure and her pride, her triumphs and her worries.
I told her last week that I was falling in love with her, and though we both knew it was a joke then, I’m not joking anymore. I really do think I’m falling. But what am I supposed to do about that? If I let myself feel for this woman, how am I going to leave her behind when filming is over? My next project is starting almost immediately after this one, and who knows what my calendar will look like after that?
Iknow. I know because I have movies lined up for months with a free weekend here and there but no big gaps. That’s how I’ve always done it, and it’s the only way I know to make sure I have enough money to look after the people I care about.
I groan softly, hating the ache that settles in my chest as I look at June.
There’s no way this can work. But it might already be too late where my heart is concerned.
