Page 18 of Yours To Take
ChapterSeven
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The blinking cursor on my screen mocks me. It’s like my computer knows I need to be writing, but nothing will draw the ideas out of me.
Fucking studio. They think by telling me my job is on the line, it’ll help the ideas come. Instead, I’m handed an idea that I need to make work about a family drama.
No pressure or anything.
“How’s it going?”
Gemma pops up at the desk beside me.
“If you can write a story for me, that’d be great.” I gesture a hand at my laptop.
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah.” I slam the lid. The main lodge, while quiet at this time of day, has filled with people. People usually have me brimming with ideas, but today, nothing.
Gemma stares down at me, like she’s contemplating something. “Do you have time this afternoon?”
“For what?”
“The weather is going to be great this afternoon, so maybe a hike will help clear your head.”
“How about now?”
“Oh. I mean, now works too.”
I stand. “I will get nowhere sitting here spinning my wheels, so why not? Maybe it’ll jump-start something in my brain.”
Gemma smiles at me. A real, not-fake-at-all, wrinkles-around-your-eyes smile. Something I’m not used to seeing in Hollywood. “You can fill me in on your process, too. Meet me back here in ten minutes and we’ll head out.”
She spins on her heel, heading out of the lobby. Her long hair swings down her back as her hips sway with each step.
I shouldn’t be as taken with her as I am, but I can’t help it. The last time this happened, I got screwed over. Another person used me to get a leg up in Hollywood.
Not the first time, but definitely the last time.
Heading back to my cabin, I drop off my laptop and change into the most appropriate clothes I have for hiking.
I didn’t really pack for outdoor activities, but thankfully I had the foresight to pack boots. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, I walk back over to the main lodge to meet Gemma.
It’s hard to believe her family owns all of this land. Acres as far as the eye can see—and then some. The main lodge is incredible. A log mansion wouldn’t quite be the correct term. While it has some guest rooms inside, the lobby and restaurant are the main jewels.
The tall windows let in the morning sun as a fire crackles in the fireplace, warding off the early spring chill. It’s western chic, if that’s considered a thing.
“You ready?”
Gemma is waiting for me in one of the rocking chairs on the back deck.
With a plaid shirt hanging open over a Dixon Bar and Grill tee, worn-in hiking boots, plus a backpack sitting by her feet, she looks like Annie Oakley.
“You’re a regular modern-day country girl.”
She laughs, bright and loud. “I don’t think that’s how anyone would describe me.”
“Well, you already know more than I do.”
