Hallie giggles. “Maybe we’ll get matching tattoos one day.”
No, because you’re not the woman for me. No offense, it’s nothing personal, but the only one for me is Kyra. Only Kyra. Forever.
Remembering the cameras, I make myself laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as short-tempered as I feel. “Sure, maybe.”
I keep my eyes on Kyra for the rest of the conversation, as the food is served. Hallie and I talk in a surface-level way, bantering about the gym and working out, but it’s a struggle to even be conscious of what I’m saying.
Luckily Hallie is positioned in such a way that I can look over her shoulder and study Kyra. I wonder if I’m going crazy, imagining the way her body tenses each time I make Hallie laugh, imagining the tightness in her each time I force myself to say something quasi-flirty.
Does she care? Is she jealous?
I don’t want her to think for a single moment I would pick Hallie, or any of the others, over her. But how would she react if I told her any of this? If I just came right out and said it, told this complete stranger how I feel about her, she might run away.
She might call me crazy, telling me she has a boyfriend and I’ve misread all the signals.
Toward the end of the meal, Kyra glances at her phone and walks quietly off the set. I’m guessing she has some production-runner errand she has to take care of. My chest aches, as though my heart is willing me to go after her.
“Well, this has been lovely,” Hallie says, calling my attention back to her.
I completely zoned out again. But it seems the meal is over.
“Yeah.” I make myself smile. “It really has.”
I look for Kyra’s rust bucket car when I leave the studio, scanning the lot. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to accomplish. If she’s still here, it’s not like I can just march up to her and blurt out all of my feelings.
But I feel like I’m going crazy just thinking about her, and it’s only been a day.
Crew members walk around me as I stand in place. Hallie walks over to a hired car, giving me a significant look over her shoulder, as though telling me she’s more than happy for me to join her if I want to.
I don’t want to. I don’t want anything except the girl who felt like she was sparking me back to life when we shook hands.
We’re shooting the show around my regular work responsibilities, with Jack picking up the slack when required… and it’s a good thing I’ve got Jack by my side.
Normally I’m able to stay completely focused on whatever task is in front of me, an indispensable skill when going into battle or finessing a business deal.
But all last night, this morning and afternoon, I couldn’t drag my thoughts away from Kyra. Every second my thoughts were swirling with insane scenes – or scenes that should be insane.
I saw her sitting up in a hospital bed, her cheeks flushed and sweat beading on her forehead from having just brought our child into the world.
I saw us sitting around a Thanksgiving table, a smile on her face as she shared a joke with our son.
I saw us all on a beach together, the sunlight glowing down at us, as we walked together through the sand.
Or I’d see her with her shirt pulled up to reveal her big round breasts, her nipples hard with lust, her sexy round tits venous and full of life, begging to be touched.
“Sorry,” a crew member mutters when he bumps into me.
He stops and turns, his mouth falling open when he sees that it’s me. He’s only a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, with spiky red hair and freckles across his face.
“Mr. Kater, I didn’t mean… I really am sorry, sir.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Relax, kid. It was an accident. Not all rich assholes are, well, assholes.” I grin. “At least not all the time.”
He laughs, nodding, the relief plain.
I walk over to the edge of the lot, where I’m parked. It’s better than standing here in the way, so lost in thought I’m not even aware of people walking up right behind me. Usually, my military instincts make it impossible for anyone to sneak up on me.
Climbing into my car, I grip the steering wheel, staring across the lot at Kyra’s hunk of junk.
I know this is probably weird behavior, sitting here and waiting for her to appear.
What am I going to do when she does?
I try to imagine a scenario where I unload all of my feelings, compulsions, and need, where she doesn’t run away from me as fast as she can. I never gave this any serious thought, back when I used to dream about the day I’d lay eyes on my woman.