Page 4 of The Love Lie
Who am I kidding? I’m Samantha. I’m a New York City asshole who never takes shit from anyone, but right now, I need to sweetly turn down this proposal without revealing my inner bitch so everyone watching stays in love with my sister and wants to buy her jewelry.
Easier said than done.
“Are you ready for the rest of your life to begin?” Keith asks, his tone so dramatic she almost wants to laugh. It’s his fourth time asking the question, and this time he must get the intonations right, because the executive producer gives a thumbs-up from the production tent, and the cameras finally switch to her.
“Yes,” Sam says plainly.
From the side, Nina snorts.
“How about a little more enthusiasm this time?” Fred calls and they signal to go again.
“Yes!” Sam half shouts.
“Okay, too much enthusiasm,” Fred comments and Sam rolls her eyes. “Let’s tone it down just a touch.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
She repeats the word so many times it actually starts to sound weird, like an alien language rolling uncomfortably off her tongue. The meaning is completely stripped.
“Try smiling.”
“Not like that.”
“You’re giving me serial killer right now. Less hostile. More cheerful.”
“Imagine you’re a fairy-tale princess.”
For the love of god.
Sam grinds her teeth and takes a deep breath, attempting to strip the daggers from her gaze. It’s time to channel her inner Cinderella. No, not the meek, subservient one, but the total boss bitch who defied her wicked stepmother, snuck out of the house to crash a ball, entranced everyone before hightailing it out at midnight without a backward glance at the lovestruck prince, and then offered her horrible stepsisters a soul-crushingfuck youby sweetly supplying the second glass slipper after the first one broke. No matter how kind people want to paint her, Cinderella oozes the sort of take-no-prisoners attitude Sam can’t help but admire.
You can do this.
You’ve got this.
“Yes,” she finally says.
“That’s the one!” Fred cheers.
With the cameras still rolling, Keith gently takes her by the shoulders. “Then turn around.”
“Wait!” Fred shouts and Keith freezes with his hands on her bare skin, palms slightly moist in the heat. It takes everything Sam has not to writhe uncomfortably as the cameramen shift positions to get ready for the arrival of her winning suitor. Nina explained earlier that they shoot the proposal itself in a single take to capture as much true emotion as possible, so genuine relief fills her heart at the knowledge that this lesson in patience is almost over.
After a few minutes, Fred gives the signal and Keith applies pressure. Sam slowly spins around and—
Holy shit.
She freezes. Her heart flips. Just like that, the cameras and the crew all fade. The world around her blurs until the only thing in perfect clarity is the man striding confidently toward her. Even though Sam spends her days surrounded by men in suits,she’s never seen a single one who looks as good as Cooper Kelley does right now. Black slacks hug his thick thighs and a matching jacket stretches across his broad shoulders. The formality of his crisp white button-up and dark tie are offset by the straw cowboy hat settled low on his head. Her gaze drops to the scuffed and worn leather boots kicking through the sand. She’s used to overgrown boys flashing their fat wallets, but he oozes the sort of rugged masculinity that can’t be bought. It’s in the casual way he saunters closer, not rushing, sure the world will wait, as if fully aware of the choke hold he has on everyone around him.
And dammit, sheisin a choke hold—unable to breathe, unable to think when he finally lifts his head high enough to clear the shadows from his face.
Sam gulps.
