He nudges the gift closer to me with a smile. “I’ve waited much too long to be able to pamper you the way you deserve. Now that I can, I’m going to take advantage of every opportunity, beautiful.”
I offer him a watery smile, happy tears rolling down my cheeks as I carefully unwrap the present. I remind myself to look surprised when I lift the lid off to find the easel, paints, and brushes that have been in there during the last three takes. Only this time, I don’t need to act. My awe is completely spontaneous because a swarm of orange and black butterflies come flying out of the box.
“How? What? Oh, my,” I breathe, my eyes going wide as I track the swirling path of Monarch butterflies.
Austin scoots his chair closer to mine and bends to whisper in my ear, “You like?”
“This is amazing. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He throws his arm over the back of my chair and I lean into his side. “I can’t believe you did this for me. Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble for messing around while we’re supposed to be filming?”
“Nah, this is mild compared to some of the stuff Austin has pulled before. He has a reputation as the best prankster around,” the cameraman directly in front of us calls out, his voice filled with laughter. “If it was anyone else he was pranking, it probably would’ve been crickets in there or something else that would freak his co-star out.”
“Crickets?” I shiver a little at the thought of them hopping out of the box instead. Austin gives me a squeeze, but the rest of the crew chuckles at my reaction. I focus on the butterflies to get that image out of my brain. As they flutter towards the ceiling, my head tilts back to keep them in view.
“So beautiful,” an unfamiliar masculine voice says from close behind me. I’m too entranced by the butterflies swirling around to pay much attention to it until a couple of minutes later when I realize Austin has turned to glare at someone. I glance over my shoulder and find a guy around my age staring at me instead of the butterflies. When our eyes meet, he grins at me. I feel Austin’s body tense, and I lower my hand to his thigh and squeeze. Unfortunately, the guy is completely clueless to the danger he’s in so he doesn’t head in the other direction. Or at the very least stop talking. Instead, he adds, “Now I get why Austin had us go to so much effort to get those butterflies. You’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
“What.” Austin’s arm drops away.
“The.” He pushes his chair back.
“Fuck.” And stands up.
Each movement punctuates the words he’s spitting out. The lighthearted moment inspired by the butterflies is gone, replaced by a tension so thick it could almost be cut by a knife. Luckily, Tyson isn’t as clueless as the guy—who I’m assuming is one of the production assistants based on what he said about helping with the butterflies—and he yanks him by the back of his shirt. Once the guy tears his attention away from me, Tyson whispers something to him that I can’t hear. But whatever he says must scare the heck out of the guy because all of the color washes out of his face. After a gulped, “Sorry,” he turns and runs from the room.
Austin takes a step forward, like he’s going to go after him, so I jump up and wrap my hands around his waist. I press against his back and nuzzle against him until I feel most of the tension leave his body. Then I circle around to look up at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he captures my lips in a claiming kiss that lets anyone looking on know I belong to him. We receive some good-natured ribbing from the crew, but none of it bothers Austin. He’s just happy to have made his point…although he apparently has plans to drive it further home. “I’m going to need to make another call to the jeweler to light a fire under his ass. I want your ring sooner than he’d originally said he would have it ready.”
If Austin’s goal with the butterflies was to get my mind off any fears about my performance, at least he’s been successful. Between his beautiful gesture, my fear for the dim-witted assistant’s life, and him mentioning an engagement ring again, messing up while we’re filming is the last thing I’m worried about.
Chapter 9
Austin
I clench my hand into a fist and glare at Preston. “Don’t ever talk about my grill like that,” I seethe.
Preston’s face breaks into a wide smile. “Never again. I’ve had your steaks before, I would never insult your grill.”
“Cut!” The director yells, her tone completely exasperated. My co-star bursts out laughing and Nicole dissolves into a fit of giggles. I shake my head as I join in their merriment. “Damn. What is it with this line?” It’s the sixth or seventh time I’ve messed up this line of dialogue. “I swear, I’ll get it right this time,” I promise.