Page 82 of The Christmas Fix
He opened the refrigerator and found it bare except for the wilted lettuce he’d noticed last night. “Not very well-stocked.”
“She tries to eat well on the road, so it’s usually to-go salads or craft service stuff,” Henry explained.
They wandered down the skinny hallway to the bedroom. Noah hadn’t noticed the dirty clothes in piles around the bed last night or this morning. He’d been too busy being balls deep in heaven.
Henry wrinkled his nose and picked up a tank top that was draped over a cabinet door and tossed it into a pile of like clothes.
Cat must have left in a hurry this morning, Noah noted. The bed looked as if a sex tornado had whirled through. And there were two distinct head dents in the pillow.
Henry cleared his throat. “Looks likesomeonehad some fun last night.”
“Yeah, uh, thanks for giving me some ideas,” Noah announced, suddenly in a hurry to get away from the all-knowing Henry. He wasn’t by any means ready to have a conversation about what had happened last night. At least not without talking to Cat about how seriously he was taking it.
He’d trusted her enough with his story, one that was widely known around town, but never discussed. Sara had no idea who her grandfather was or what kind of childhood Noah had. She’d listened and been angry for him. And it felt like there was something more there than just sexual attraction. Whatever it was, he wanted more.
She dazzled him. She made himfeel. Made him want to walk away from steady, from secure, and play on the wild side.
This was his shot at some temporary but memorable-for-the-rest-of-his-life fun. He was throwing his hat into the ring to claim the rest of her time here in Merry. He just hoped Cat wouldn’t kick his ass for it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Cat’s attention was wrestled back to present by Paige’s whistle. “Welcome back,” Paige said. “Where’d you go?”
“Huh?” Cat mumbled, searching the recesses of her mind for a plausible lie. It was the third time in this shoot that she’d spaced out.
“You okay?” Drake asked. He’d been feeding her the same line for ten minutes now inside Reggie’s nearly completed diner, and Cat just couldn’t get the response right. It was like their roles were reversed.
Cat rolled her shoulders and dragged her mind out of her bed where Noah had ranged over her and driven her to madness. She slapped a smile on her face. “Just didn’t get enough coffee this morning.” Lies. She’d had three cups so far. Nothing was dragging her mind away from last night… and this morning.
She felt like she was reliving some life-altering experience, and that terrified her down to her pretty pink toenails. Fun.It was supposed to be fun.
“Can someone get Cat a coffee so we can wrap this before midnight?” Paige called into her headset.
An espresso magically appeared in front of her moments later, and Cat took a swig.
“Sorry, guys. I’m good. I swear. Where were we?”
“Drake is explaining to you why he chose stainless steel for the diner counter and the backsplash,” Paige reminded her, settling back in her chair behind the camera.
“Right, right. Okay. I’m good.”
“Rolling.”
They started over from the mark, and this time Cat nailed the required interest in Drake’s explanation. It was a bit of TV magic. Drake hadn’t picked the counters. Cat had. But it would be more entertaining for the viewers if they split up the projects and ribbed each other along the way. Drake was used to having a team of high-end designers on hand to help shape projects on his show. Cat, on the other hand, was a veritable control freak. Her vision was law. It required an exhausting amount of prep and research before shooting started, but until someone else proved they could do it better, Cat was happy to hang on to the responsibility.
Reggie’s diner was coming together in a wild melding of traditional diner architecture and Jamaican flavor. She’d kept things simple and modern with the stainless counter and open kitchen. Part of the charm of Reggie’s was listening to the reggae that blared from his radio by the grill. And hearing the waitresses shout at the cooks. The booths and stools were new and boasted turquoise cushions. She’d squeezed in one extra table and two stools at the counter. Room for more paying customers.
The second register and sales system were cordoned off in the old storage corner. The metal exterior had held up well to the mud and water, but the innards had been a disaster. New black and white checkered flooring had gone down two days ago, and the tile workers were finishing the wall the booths butted against.
They’d brought in a Jamaican-born mural artist to paint the far wall. A Caribbean beach scene with palm trees and hammocks. Cat could almost hear the steel drum band. Back in the kitchen, she’d reorganized the storage and given Reggie all new appliances. The reveal was being shot this afternoon, and tomorrow they’d shoot the reopening. Post-production would have one hell of a time cobbling together an entire episode in such a short time, but the story editor had been dictator-ish about sequences. So, it was still do-able.
Next on deck was Mrs. Pringle’s house and the Hais’. Cat had a few furniture pieces and knickknacks she needed for both projects. She’d need to carve out some time to shop. Maybe she could take a crew with her and head to one of Merry’s antique shops?
Maybe Noah would like to go with her. They could grab dinner—
“Fuck,” Cat muttered.
Paige pulled off her headset. “Cut.”
