“Wow, it’s gorgeous,” I said, hopping out. “So this friend of yours who owns the house is also an actor?”
I went around to open the tailgate for him and spotted a motorcycle, the same motorcycle with California plates from the day before, parked under a palmetto tree to the side of the house. Great, so I had also almost killed him. I paused a moment and looked up into the bright blue sky. If it wasn’t so at odds with the reality of my everyday life, I’d say fate was literally throwing us together. Though I preferred the outcome of me being his grocery shopper to me side swiping him off his motorcycle. Either way, there were definitely some celestial hijinks being played.
“Yeah. Wait ’til you see the inside. Completely different.” I followed him up the stairs and waited while he unlocked the door.
He stood aside to let me into the cool interior, a relief from the hot day.
“Wow!” It was like walking into a photographer’s lightbox with a postcard of the ocean at one end. Squinting against the glare, my eyes were immediately drawn to the view outside the glass windows and doors that perfectly framed the bright blue sea beyond. Inside was an exercise in Zen minimalism gone awry. It was all was bright white, sparse and modern with light from outside bouncing off every available surface. Although not my style, it was arresting and beautiful in it’s own way. I liked things more comfy and distressed so I could imagine a whole history by just looking at them.
“You can see why I woke up at the crack of dawn, despite being on Pacific Time, right?”
I nodded. The sun rose on this side of the island. It must have been bright.
“I hope you have some blinds in your room.”
“I do, but I stupidly didn’t close them last night. You get sunsets, not sunrises in L.A.—it didn’t occur to me. But it was pretty awesome to wake up to the sunrise and the beach and go running.”
“It’s low tide in the mornings this week so you must have had some good hard packed sand to run on. Awesome.” I made a mental note to pick him up a tide chart next time I was out.
“You run?”
“A couple of times a week. I do some kayaking and paddleboarding in the marshes too, that’s pretty big down here.”
“Never tried it.” Jack made his way over to the sleek modern kitchen with its stainless steel and miles of white marble surfaces.
“You should. When in Rome.” I turned back to the living area and took in the white tiled floor and low slung couches.
“You come running with me one morning, and I’ll go kayaking with you. You can give me an eco tourism lesson on sea turtles.”
His suggestion surprised me. I didn’t imagine him choosing to spend more time with me than was necessary. I turned to look at him as he unpacked the grocery bags. There was nothing behind the tone of that suggestion at all. It was so bland and innocuous, like just one of those things people say. Maybe it was his version of the Hollywood classic “let’s do lunch”.
“Sure.” What else did one say? Ask me again when you’re serious?
“So you’re working tonight again?” he asked, unpacking the groceries. He held up the salmon. “I think I accidentally got some of your stuff.”
“No, that’s for you. It’s easy, just salt and pepper and bake at three-fifty for seventeen minutes. Simple, but delicious. And yeah, I start at five, so I need to get home and get showered.”
I was starting to get uncomfortable again. Being in Jack’s space just did weird things to me.
“Easy for you to say. You lost me at salt.” He smiled at my raised eyebrows. “I’m kidding.” He paused a moment looking at me. “You want a quick tour before you go?”
“Uh. Sure.”
He came around the counter, and I followed as he pointed out the various rooms and headed for the staircase.
“You know Devon Brown and Monica Black?” he asked. Did I know them? They were only a Hollywood power couple who’d been together since I was a kid. I nodded. I’d heard a rumor they were buying a place here, but thought nothing ever came of it.
“This is theirs. Their production company owns a piece of the Erath franchise, so I got to know them pretty well. Devon’s a good guy and a good friend, he called me up after the Audrey stuff broke and offered me a place to get away. Thank God.”
I nodded again, like we were just talking about regular people and he was a regular guy.
It was like walking around in a magazine spread, nothing out of place and not a knick knack or personal picture to be found. But it was beautifully built, I could see that.
“Why didn’t you go home? Like to wherever your family is?” As I asked, I realized I knew absolutely nothing about where Jack was from. I wished I had Jazz’s fan-based insight, so I wouldn’t put my foot in my mouth or ask the wrong thing.
“Well, I don’t have family here really. It was just my mother and me, anyway. I grew up in the UK until I was nine. Then moved to New York until I was done with school and moved out to L.A. to try my hand at movies. My mother moved back to England. She would kill me if I brought a trail of paparazzi to her door.”
“You don’t have an accent.” I decided to avoid asking about his mom.
“Not anymore, but I can do one if I need to.”
We got to the bedroom where Jack was clearly staying. There were huge French doors onto a Juliet balcony overlooking the view. I walked over to them, studiously avoiding the unmade king-sized bed with its white covers still pulled back and tried very hard not to think of him lying there sleeping. I wasn’t very successful and felt my cheeks flush with warmth. It was becoming a hazard. The room smelled of him already. Something indefinably male and all Jack.
I pulled my attention back outside and looked down to see the sparkling blue of a lap pool set into a stone patio below us. It wouldn’t be visible from the beach as the dunes would shield it from prying eyes. In fact, with the foliage on either side of the property lines, it was extremely private. Perfect for famous occupants. It was funny how you could live in a town like Butler Cove for years and never see these places. I heard Jack clearing his throat behind me.
“Check out this bathroom, it’s incredible.” He made for the doorway in the side wall.
“It’s the size of the bedroom!” There was a huge picture window capturing the same view and the white tub was in the middle of the room set in a sea of tumbled travertine. I looked up and saw that water fell from a faucet in the ceiling. Wow!
Suddenly, an unexpected image of Jack and I in the tub with water cascading over us flashed in my head. A bolt of pure heat lanced through me, robbing me of breath. Where had that come from? My cheeks were still burning with my reaction to his bedroom, and now this. This was way beyond feeling like a giddy groupie, and I was totally out of my depth. I had to pull myself together. I clamped my lips together and screwed my eyes closed for a moment.
“Are you ok?” I opened them at Jack’s voice and saw in the mirror he was watching my reflection with what looked like a smug grin on his face. God, he must be so over this stupid reaction from hormone-fueled teenage fans. I turned away from him without comment and didn’t realize how close he was. My arms had swung out a little away from my body and... oh the shame! I brushed against his groin. We both started.