Page 11 of Work It Out
Because she had no clue how serious this might be.
Pierce didn’t see the worry pinching her eyes, though. If Jake told her now, she’d pack him off to L.A. today, probably with her dainty sneaker lodged somewhere in his person. Besides, he’d be fine, and a couple days alone with a sexy woman sounded way better than listening to Pierce bitch at him. “When do we leave?”
“Fine. Have it your way.” Pierce shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes, then dug his keys from his pocket and tossed them onto the kitchen island. “Take my Jeep. Squeezing into your car won’t do his stomach any favors. I won’t need it anyway. When Blaine hears about this, he’ll kill me.” He turned to Rayah. “Tell him I tried. Maybe he’ll make it quick.”
She handed him her keys. “You worry too much.”
The front door didn’t slam behind him, but it didn’t close softly, either.
…
The second they started down the mountain, the air felt lighter and Jake took his first deep breath in almost twenty-four hours. The exhaustion of a sick, sleepless night caught up with him, and like a bum, he dozed the whole drive to Sedona.
Too soon, he woke to a soft touch on his arm and the scent of lemon in his nose. By the time he’d shaken off the groggy disorientation, Rayah had jumped out of the Jeep and hiked a duffel bag onto each shoulder to join her backpack. She pointed an old-fashioned skeleton key toward a pebbled path and a short row of stone cottages. “We’re at the end.”
He tried to take his bag, but she danced away. That she wouldn’t let him carry his own luggage might’ve wounded his pride if she hadn’t been so pragmatic about it. “It’s you or the bag, Mr. Newman. You’re looking better, but that’s a low bar and the bag’s lighter.”
That settled, they strode off toward the farthest cottage. Well, she strode. He stumbled in her wake and tried not to stare at her ass. Ogling her was rude, but her leggings had to be painted on, and his brain was still returning from vacay.
The door swung open to reveal a space that was rich-people cozy. Not a euphemism for small or even comfortable in the way his grandmother’s house was. With its stone fireplaces, sturdy but plush furniture, and soapstone counters, this was bougie without the bling.
He whistled as he closed the door. “Fancy.”
She looked around as if she hadn’t noticed. “I guess.”
“We didn’t have to stay somewhere expensive, you know. I might work in Hollywood, but I’m not too spoiled. Granny would kick my ass for dropping this kind of dough on a room.” He waited until she looked at him. “She can never know how much I’m paying you. I think of it as investing in my career. She wouldn’t.”
“True.” A grin tinged with evil lifted the edges of her mouth. “The only money Jean’s loose with is the singles she tucks into Blaine’s G-string.”
“Mean, woman. That’s just mean.” He shuddered. “The image of his big ass in a banana hammock and butt floss is forever branded on the insides of my eyelids, and I blame you.”
She laughed, a full, throaty sound that ran through his veins like warm honey. Pierce said she was always so serious. Jake liked that he could make her laugh.
“In the spirit of full disclosure, I didn’t spend as much as you think. I chose this resort because I’m meeting with the management team tomorrow. They gave me the room for cost.”
Jake wandered aimlessly through the open concept living room/kitchen. “Pierce told me about your plan to pair up with local resorts. Smart.”
“I’d rather handle everything in-house, but we all have to start somewhere, right?” She laid their bags on the floor by the couch and headed out the back door and onto the deck.
He snorted as he followed. “Yeah, your shabby mega sports complex will have to suffice for now.”
The deck overlooked Oak Creek. All around them, trees burned bright oranges and yellows against a sky so perfectly blue, it could only exist in Arizona. Leaves rustled to the ground while the creek rushed soothingly in the distance. Rayah leaned against the railing, taking in the bucolic scene with a critical eye.
“It’s nice,” he admitted. “But it has nothing on Explosion.”
She rubbed her earlobe between her thumb and forefinger. “Am I that easy to read?”
“Hardly.” But he was learning. “Actors have to be good at putting themselves in other people’s shoes. If I were you, that’s what I’d be thinking. An outsider’s opinion?” She nodded, so he continued. “This place is too perfect, too staged. It looks old and lived in on the surface, but it has all the character of stock photography—universally pleasing or whatever, but ultimately fake. Even the landscape looks cultivated, like someplace wannabe new-agers from L.A. come to hum at crystals without ever seeing one in the ground.”
He thought about the view from the back of the cabin he’d stayed in last night and the way the main building blended into the mountain. “Explosion makes you feel…special, like the mountain’s letting you in on her secrets.”
She turned back to the creek, but not fast enough to hide the pleased light in her eyes and maybe a hint of relief. “I should write that speech down. Do I get to quote you on marketing materials once we’ve turned you into the next boy wonder?”
“Ugh, not Boy Wonder. That’s Robin. I hate DC. No matter how many muscles you give me, even I can’t pull off puke green pantyhose.”
She gave him a slow once-over, then brushed past him in a cloud of lemon and sass. “We’ll see.”
The cool afternoon breeze teetered at the edge of chilly, but it calmed the woozy feeling still slithering around his stomach. He settled onto a padded chaise longue and wished he had the energy to find something to eat. The drunk pneumonia feeling had shifted to a lethargic hangover now that his brain was getting more oxygen. He hadn’t been able to stomach Pierce’s smoothie before they left, nor had he eaten the previous night. No wonder he was suddenly starving.
