His eyes light up as if I’ve just given him the keys to his dream car. “Nice.”
“I have Munster, Swiss, Provolone, and American cheeses.”
“Yes,” he replies and I laugh again before grabbing all four kinds of cheese and a tub of butter. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was doing anything that he can to get a chuckle from me. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t felt this comfortable around anyone in such a long time.
“Here you go, Chef.”
“Thanks. Take a seat; I’ll whip these up for us.”
Situating myself on one of my barstools I watch him move around my kitchen, even with his large frame and muscles he seems to fit in the cramped space. It could just be wishful thinking on my part, but I like having him in my place, and he seems to feel the same.
When he’s done with the sandwiches, we move over to the couch. I turn on the television, but instead of watching a movie or television show, I find a baseball game playing.
“You like baseball?” he asks, and with a mouthful of cheesy goodness, I shrug my shoulders.
“Never watched it.”
“I like it in person. I used to go to a lot of Dodgers games back home. When I’m filming, I’ll probably try to go see a few Cubs games.”
“Chicago?”
“Yeah, that’s where we’re filming a lot of this movie.”
“Cool, what’s it about?”
“I’ll play a CIA operative that is undercover as a racecar driver. He’s going after this rival racing family that runs a custom car shop. There is talk that they smuggle drugs under the floorboards and between the car panels. He ends up falling for the daughter of the family.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it’s looking to turn into a franchise. Fingers-crossed. I’m excited about it. The full storyline is new and different. And they’re going to let me race some of the cars. I can’t wait for that.”
His entire body lights up as he talks about the production and I can tell he will embody this role with everything he has.
“I’m sure it will be amazing.”
“I need it to be,” he confesses, his tone dropping like a chill in the air.
My sandwich forgotten, I pull my legs up onto the cushions and tuck my feet under my bottom as I turn in his direction.
“Why is that?”
“It’s kind of my first big break back in Hollywood. No one wanted to work with me for a long time. I have to prove myself all over again.”
“Well, I believe in you,” I tell him honestly. I can see the determination in his eyes as he speaks about the project. He won’t fail them.
“Thanks. That means a lot, Larsen. Most people would rather I’d hide back in the shadows. Go back to the Hell I had been living in.”
His confession both surprises me and doesn’t. The world, in general, would rather see people suffer than help lift them up to their potential. I’ve only met a few that embrace strangers with open arms.
Wordlessly, I lean my head onto his shoulder in comfort and reflexively he wraps his arms around my shoulders, holding me close. The feeling is different, but not uncomfortable. I hadn’t allowed anyone to hold me this close since I lost my virginity as a stupid teenager wanting to feel more grown-up before my mother took us across the country. No one’s been able to step beyond my personal shield, until Devyn. For some reason, he’s powered past all of my defenses, and I’ve let him. It isn’t because I am stunned by his beauty or dazzled by his celebrity. Just something about him seems familiar on a cellular level.
My lids peel back from my eyes when a beeping noise startles me awake. I look around the room with a fuzzy haze disturbing my vision until I realize that I’m still on my couch with Devyn pressed against my side, his head resting on the back of my couch with his mouth wide open.
If I had a cell phone, I would absolutely take a picture of this moment. Not only is it hilarious, but it’s probably the only way I could prove that the Devyn Dane was in my apartment. I do my best to slip from beneath his arm, but just when I think I’ve escaped his hold without waking him up, his eyes flicker open.
“Hey,” his throaty voice welcomes me this early morning.
“Hi, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”