Page 52 of The Christmas Fix
And with every stranger who showed up to make a difference, Merry got just a little brighter.
Cat decided the best way to uphold the truce—and not to remind herself what Noah’s tongue tasted like—was to avoid him like the drunk, shirtless guy with his face painted blue in the nosebleed section of every sporting event ever. She chalked that night up to too much alcohol and judgment-clouding rage. It was the only explanation for why she had allowed her sworn enemy to get a good handful of her tits while she gripped his hard-on like a baton.
Of course, alcohol did not explain why she’d been getting herself off to the very vibrant memory of being slammed up against a cold brick wall and consumed. Every night. She was starting to worry she might lose flexion in her wrist if she didn’t chill the fuck out soon.
Cat zipped up her fleece and dragged on a knit hat that would have her hair stylist fussing over her before the next take. “How’s it looking?” she asked, shouldering in next to Paige at the monitor. Paige was dressed like a kid ready for a snow day in a parka, fleece-lined pants, and giant mittens that she could pry open in case she actually needed the use of her fingers.
“Good. Really good. You and Drake look good together on camera. Should keep the rumors flying about you two.”
Cat studied the image. Her bronze hair and subtle makeup made her look girl next door as she stared up into Drake’s handsome face. His height, that thick dark mane, and the killer grin had ladies swooning from episode one. His perfectly tailored flannels and tight jeans didn’t hurt either.
“He’s really loosened up,” Cat noted as Drake delivered a line of dialogue on the screen.
Paige nodded. “He’s definitely learning from you, and it helps to have the story editors on hand providing a guide.”
Drake strolled through the tent, mug of coffee in one hand and a hardboiled egg in the other. His earmuffs were ridiculous, but if anyone could pull them off, it was Drake.
“We ready to roll?” he asked, taking a bite of the egg.
It was the one unattractive thing about Drake Mackenrowe. His paleo diet that did his body so good required him to snack incessantly on things like beef jerky and hard boiled eggs. His breath on set made Cat extremely happy that she didn’t have to kiss him for the cameras.
She couldn’t help but compare kissing Drake to Noah’s performance. It was no contest. Noah Yates knew how to kiss a woman like he was tasting her soul. It was almost a week later, and she was still retreating to that night in her head six or seven times a day. She’d lost her damn mind, and she worried that there was a very tiny sliver of her that wouldn’t mind losing it again to see if it felt the same.
Thankfully, she had no time to track him down and climb him like a tree. Between shooting and production duties, she was spread dangerously thin. If it weren’t for her mother sending a steady stream of leftovers to set with Paige, Cat would be collapsing into bed without dinner most nights.
Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, and she tugged it out. It was Lorinda, her partner for all intents and purposes when it came to the school, she noted with a quick stab of guilt. The woman was as excited about Cat’s plan for a school as she was. Enough so that she’d signed on the dotted line to become the superintendent. She’d shuffled a facilities manager Cat’s way and had taken Cat’s rough research on educational tracks and dug in with both hands. She’d also taken over the grant writing when she’d discovered just how truly awful Cat’s writing style was.
They were almost close enough that they should be choosing a location and now everything was at a standstill while Cat’s time was taken up by Merry.
“Hey, Lorinda. How’s it going?” Cat asked.
“Cat. I have the best, most amazing news. Just incredible. I’m so excited.” Lorinda was not an effusive, excitable person. Only something really big could have her utilizing so many adjectives.
Cat laughed. “What is it?”
“We got the Oppenwick grant.”
Cat gripped her phone hard with her gloved hand. “What did you say? Because it sounds like we got the Oppenwick grant.”
“Three million dollars, Cat. Three freaking million dollars!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cat screamed jumping up and down ignoring the stares.
“I am not freaking kidding you! They absolutely loved the idea, the curricula, the small business development center. Everything.”
Cat doubled over and was surprised to find tears clouding her eyes. “This is really happening?”
“We are going to educate the hell out of a lot of women,” Lorinda announced.
“Oh my God. We need a location. We need staff. We need students.”
“We need to circulate a summary of the goals and objectives and timelines and then get everyone committed to the project on at least a video, preferably a face-to-face if you can swing it.”
They ran through the list of giant whopping to-dos as a few stray tears worked their way free from Cat’s eyes. It was happening. She was really doing this. This was something that was just hers. It wasn’t the family business. It wasn’t a TV show with her brother. This school washerbaby!
“I had an idea on how to choose a location,” Lorinda said, regaining a small semblance of composure.
“What? Tell me. I’m open to anything.”
