Typecast (29 page)

“Oh, well later.” She took her place next to him.

Before tackling the food, he took his time setting up his space. Nothing spoke more of production and work than office supplies, and he neatly arranged a yellow pad, pen, pencil, calculator, and his mail out in front of him. As a grand finale, he took out his laptop and powered it up.

“Are you going to eat?” She scooted closer to him.

Oh yes, eating. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the plate of food. Three bloated yet charred pieces of what he assumed was French toast floated in a lake of syrup and melted butter with crispified bacon creating a border.

No way could he eat the food. He didn’t even like syrup that much.

“I know this isn’t close to your pancakes, but I didn’t want you to always have to cook for me.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Damn it. Why couldn’t she be a taker like everyone else? He lifted the fork, pried off a piece of the French toast, and shoved the tough triangle in his mouth.

Equally important to food taste was texture. As far as the taste, his mouth was overtaken by sweet to such a point where he welcomed the bit of burned to cut the sugar. However, the chewy, gooey, squishy texture almost did him in.

Almost.

Until he looked over at Ivy staring at him with a slight smile on her face. Whatever agents turned her down in the past due to a little stage fright had no vision, because the sight in front of him was nothing short of magnificent. She could sell anything. He swallowed and raised his eyebrows.

“You have a little syrup on your lip.” Once more she kissed him but took her time to run her tongue over his mouth.

“You make the world’s best napkin.” Rather than take another bite, he pulled her in.

“Do you like it?” She giggled.

“I like you more.” Again, not a lie. He dipped his head down.

She snuck her hand between them. “I thought you had to work.”

The work. The work she didn’t believe he did. With one peck on the tip of her nose, he pushed back and turned to the computer. “Yes, let me get everything fired up here.”

“We must keep you in top shape.” She nudged his dish over to him and dug into her own plate.

Somehow he needed to eat the food or hide it. Damn him for never getting a dog. “I want to savor every bite.” As he chiseled off another piece, his cell phone saved him. “Work call.” Without even looking, he dropped the fork and answered. “Logan Alexander.”

“I remember the days you used to call me first.” Erin breathed into the phone.

“Hold on to your memories.” He returned his attention to his laptop and brought up one of his spreadsheets. “What do you need?”

“I had two reporters call wanting an interview about the anniversary,” Erin whispered.

“Handle as you normally do. What’s the issue?” Though he pretended to stare at the screen, he kept his eyes on Ivy and his ears on his words.

“They said I spoke with your girlfriend, so why couldn’t I speak to them?” She sighed. “We have an arrangement.”

He shook his head. Erin didn’t make mountains out of molehills. No, she made them out of anthills, but never missed the chance to remind him he was bought and paid for. “E-mail me the information and I’ll take care of it.”

“Fine.”

“Do you need anything else?” He strummed his fingers on the keys of his laptop and ground his teeth together at the loaded question.

“I need a lot of things, but I did want to tell you that Brian made your deposit. I added extra for the anniversary gala.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” After the whole spectacle was over, he wanted to work on ending their connected lives completely.

“Yes, I did. I ruined your career.”

With her years of acting experience, he wasn’t sure if the break he heard in her voice was real or not. “Guess we’ll never know.”

“How’s the bar?”

“The opening is in two days. Why don’t you see for yourself?” He almost laughed. Erin would never show, especially with Ivy in his life.

“You don’t need a date, but I’ll see. Good-bye.”

“Thank you for calling.” Rather than making the phone call mysterious, he decided to treat it as any sort of work. “Well, I got that out of the way. That was one of my funding sources.” No lie in his statement. He was on a roll.

“Funding?” Ivy lifted his fork and aimed it toward his mouth.

“Yes.” He barely got the word out before she fed him. Using every ounce of strength, he swallowed.

“What kind of funding?” She curled up next to him in the booth. Booths were so much better than tables.

Finally, they would get to the work. For two days, he had practiced how to explain without any untruth. “Look here.” He pointed to his computer screen, mostly to direct her to the amount of money he had. He never wanted her worrying about him not being able to provide. “Many years ago, I ended up with a settlement that is paid to me monthly.”

“Were you in a lawsuit?”

At not having rehearsed that answer, he ground his teeth together. “No.”

“So how did you end up with a settlement?”

His phone chimed off, saving him. He held up a finger and answered. “Logan Alexander.”

“Ryder Scott.” He chuckled. “I think I would make a better voice-over artist than you.”

“Good to know.” Logan put his elbow on the table and rested his forehead in his hand.

“I just got off the phone with Erin, and it reminded me to tell you I made your deposit,” Ryder told him. “I also have a list of media that’s been hounding me, Mr. Mouthpiece.”

“Fine. Send it to me and I’ll deal with it.” Logan wondered which one of Ryder’s women would make the deposit for him this month.

“Seems as if the interviews with Ivy opened the door up to everyone thinking we could talk. Questions about our missing fourth is making louder than normal waves. I think he’s doing it as a publicity stunt, and if that’s the case, the time to come out is now where he would make the most of it.”

Everything in Ryder’s life barreled down to dollars and cents, but how could Logan judge. His did as well . . . until Ivy. “Leave it be. You know the drill.”

“I’m not bound by any contract from talking about it with you,” Ryder huffed into the phone. “Watch Ivy. The paparazzi is hot for her, especially after that story in the
National Reporter
. Careful at the opening.”

Instinct caused him to wrap his arm around her. No one would get near her on his watch again. “I have to go. Thanks for the update.” He tossed his phone across the table. “Busy morning.”

“I’ve never heard your phone ring so much.”

“I prefer it being just you and me.” Of all the things he said thus far, that sentence was the most true.

“You were explaining how you ended up with the settlement.” She tilted her head up at him.

Along with everything else he needed to remember, he could never forget Ivy’s intelligence. A scholar at heart, her mind remained focused on every last detail.

However, he was an actor, taught to improvise and make due even if he didn’t have the lines. When in doubt, the best way to get through a situation was to buy time by using a prop. He grabbed one of the strips of bacon and shoved it into his mouth. The petrified pork crumbled and the flavor of “burned and salt” replaced “burned and sweet.” By only a miracle, he managed to chew and swallow. “Payback for a long-term loan and it compounded over time.” He wasn’t sure if he’d lied or not, since he didn’t even understand what he’d said.

She nodded.

“Anyway, enough of this. Long story short, over time I invested the money and it grew. So today I wanted to check the numbers, and I thought later we could go take a drive and look at a couple of properties and have lunch out.” If the thought of eating ever appealed to him again.

“I would love that.”

“My work this morning entails researching the area and the opportunities.” Between the bacon, the French toast, and the phone calls, his palate needed to be cleansed. He reached for the coffee and took a sip. “Oh my God.” The taste bore right through him.

“What’s wrong?” Ivy straightened up.

“I didn’t know coffee had a texture.” Without spilling or dying, he managed to get the cup back on the table.

“You like your coffee strong.” She winced. “Is it too strong?”

“Baby.” It was time to face the truth and her head-on. “This coffee just took me out.”

She put her hand over her eyes. “I’m not a good cook.”

“No, you are not.” Gently, he moved her hand away. “But lucky for us, I am.”

“But—”

He cut her off by putting his finger over her lips. “I would eat your cooking every meal, every day if it meant keeping you happy.”

“I don’t really enjoy cooking.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I just wanted to do it for you.”

“You do enough.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Just being with you is enough.” At his admission, his true admission, he also knew his true feelings.

“Logan.” She brushed her lips over his and moved over to his jaw and ear. “I’m so hungry.”

“How about I make breakfast?”

“Okay, how about I play assistant and research where we’re going today?”

He pulled back and took her all in, something he found himself doing quite often. “That sounds like a deal. I really hate working on the computer.”

“I love it.” She gave him a huge grin.

“Then we’re a perfect match.” Before retreating to the kitchen, he set her up on his computer. In truth, he rarely used the thing, preferring to keep all his personal information on his phone.

“I didn’t realize all about your job.” She typed away on the computer.

In truth, no, she didn’t realize about his job. The investments served as a distraction to his babysitting role, one he didn’t audition for or covet. But now his past was on a straight collision course with his future, and he didn’t want any casualties.

CUT TO:

INT. STEVEN’S GRANDPARENTS’ HOUSE — FLAGSTAFF AZ. — NIGHT

All four, plus the grandparents, are sitting at the dinner table enjoying a home-cooked meal and the feeling of home.

STEVEN’S GRANDMOTHER

I think this adventure is good for you.

CHARLES

You do?

CHARLES shakes his head.

WILLIAM, ROXY, and STEVEN look up from their plates.

STEVEN’S GRANDMOTHER

I do. It’s part of growing up.

With a bowl of mashed potatoes in her hand, GRANDMOTHER stands up and makes her way around the table, stopping first at CHARLES.

STEVEN’S GRANDMOTHER

You will live if you ever get a B on a test, and you’ll be better for it.

GRANDMOTHER doles out a spoonful of potatoes and moves on.

WILLIAM leans back to allow her to serve him.

STEVEN’S GRANDMOTHER

I think you’re finding that not everything in life can be solved with a smile.

GRANDMOTHER pats WILLIAM’S shoulder, gives him another serving, and continues on.

ROXY puts her hand over her plate.

GRANDMOTHER moves ROXY’S hand away.

STEVEN’S GRANDMOTHER

One day you will regret the serving of mashed potatoes you didn’t take. Make sure you always look at all your opportunities.

ROXY smiles at the pile of potatoes on her plate.

STEVEN pushes his plate over.

STEVEN

What about me, fortune-teller?

GRANDMOTHER leans down.

STEVEN’S GRANDMOTHER

First, never assume.

GRANDMOTHER squeezes his cheek.

STEVEN’S GRANDMOTHER

Second, always take the opportunity to tell someone how you really feel, not how you think you should feel, but what’s in your heart.

Chapter Eighteen

Ivy made her way down the stairs and peeked out at Wilson’s bar. The low mumblings of the freshly minted wait staff and the clinks of glasses and dishes over the light jazz music in the background all made the establishment come alive. For the last few days, the place had buzzed with activity and it finally all came together. The retro speakeasy was completely on trend.

Though they had all tried to keep the vandalism out of the media, both she and Logan knew no matter how fast they dealt with it, the story would leak. They had taken to their own show to discuss the situation. In a twist that had warmed her heart, they’d received an outpouring of support from their fans, or as Logan called them, her fans. Either way, after the opening for the VIPs, the reservation list was positively packed. Still, she had her objective. Somehow she needed to figure out the mystery that was her man.

Once spying Wilson, she headed toward the bar. A couple of servers stopped to let her go by, making her feel more like a princess than the investor’s girlfriend.

“Can I help with anything?” As of yet, she had never gotten the chance to talk to him alone.

He gave her a slow shake of his head. “Not looking like that.”

“Do you like it?” She glanced down at the 1950s form-hugging black satin strapless gown. After three different tries, she had finally found the right bra to give her cleavage the
vavoom
she wanted.

“Every man likes that dress, trust me. How about while we wait for our other halves I make you a drink to match your outfit?” Like any good barkeep, he lifted a glass and held it up to the light. “Plus, I have a question for you.”