Page 16 of The Kissing Part
She lifts her chin. “That would be unprofessional.”
“Exactly.”
“Owen?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’ll be in my suite with me. Now I might finally sleep through the night instead of waking in terror at every little sound.”
“Aww, Shay.”
She gives me a small smile. “Just need to do a quick change.” She heads to the back of the trailer to a bedroom.
It’s a big trailer similar to the kind Mom used to get. It means she has a lead role. There’s a living room area with a table and chairs, a sofa bed, a small kitchen, a vanity setup for hair and makeup, as well as the bedroom and bathroom in back.
I wait, stuffing my hands in my jeans pockets while I try not to think about Shayla stripping just on the other side of that door.
A few moments later, she reappears in a T-shirt and jeans with her wardrobe on a hanger. She sets the hanger on a rod in a small closet.
“Wardrobe will stop by in the morning to clean and press it. They have two copies of this outfit.”
“Uh-huh.”
She slips her feet into heeled sandals and grabs her purse from the closet. “Ready.”
“How’s security on set?”
She leads the way out the door. “Good, I think. They’ve got several guards here to keep the public out. My trailer has a fancy lock.”
I glance back at it. “What about the windows?”
“They have locks.”
“I’m going to take a closer look at them tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Several people stop to say hi to her as we leave the set location. One guy reminds her makeup time is eight a.m. tomorrow. Guess that means I’ll be up early too. This is bringing back lots of childhood memories of being on set. It’s a whole different world, but one that’s familiar. I suppose that’s good because I’m less likely to be starstruck by the setup and will notice when something’s off.
On the walk back to the hotel, I ask her to tell me every detail about the flowers and card that she can remember. After she does, she says, “And how was your day?”
“Busy. For your safety, you should avoid room service. Someone trusted will need to go out and get food. Do you have an assistant?”
“Yes, but she’s in LA house-sitting for me.”
“She needs to be here. She can take my room in the suite. I’ll take the sofa.”
“Yes, sir,” she says crisply.
I keep a straight face. “Glad you’re getting with the program.”
* * *
Shayla
When we get to my hotel room, Owen finally stops lecturing me about stalker safety. Of course I know to be smart and not take any chances. Claire went over in great detail all she did to stay safe from her stalkers over the years.
An awkward silence stretches between us. Alone in a hotel suite. The bedroom mere steps away. I consider Owen my first, even though I wasn’t a virgin at the time. My actual first experience at fifteen with my twenty-three-year-old costar was painful, quick, and ended with him bolting out the door. It was consensual, if not technically legal. I thought I was in love when really I was just desperately lonely and craving affection. Anyway, the next day on set he flirted with his makeup artist and pretended nothing had happened between us. Owen was my true first—slow and tender because he loved me. No one has ever topped that experience. True love makes all the difference.
