“Oh.” Mac’s face cleared. “That’s an entirely different thing. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Nope.” I thought about how much detail I wanted to get into with Mac. “He said he could help me learn some techniques if I wanted. Kicks and such.”
“Do you want to learn that kind of thing?”
“Yeah, but that’s not what the studio hired me for.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell him that they’d only hired me as a favor to him and that I wasn’t doing anything productive.
“It might not be a bad use of your time, though.”
That surprised me. Mac seemed like the kind of man who wouldn’t want a woman to learn to fight. But it turned out that—as usual—he was thinking of one of his stepsons—official or unofficial—not me.
“It’ll be a good experience for Ford.”
“For Ford? He teaches people stunt fighting all the time.”
“Yeah, but not many women. He’ll be a better trainer with some experience in techniques suitable for women.”
“Are they different than the ones for men?”
“Some of them. There are some differences in men’s and women’s bodies—besides the obvious. Women have their strengths and weaknesses and they’re not always the same as men’s.”
I nodded. At least he’d admitted that women had strengths.
“Mac!” A man with salt and pepper hair held a beer in one hand and was waving Mac over with the other.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go.” Mac stood up.
“Is that the director?”
“No, the cinematographer. Will you be all right on your own?”
I made a point of looking around at the crowd, which had grown. “There’s got to be seventy people here. I’m not on my own.”
Mac grinned. “And this is just the skeleton crew for the desert shoot. You should see it when we’ve got the full gang.”
He put on his cowboy hat and headed off. Before I could stand, another man moved into his spot. “I thought he’d never leave.”
I laughed, pretty sure he was joking. He held out a hand to me. “Jared Weiss.”
I put down my plate so that I could shake it. “Ronnie Moreno.”
He held my hand for a little longer than necessary. He was a good-looking guy in his late thirties.
“Are you Mac’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
Jared scrutinized me from head to toe. “You don’t look like him.”
“My mother’s Mexican. They met when they—”
He held up his hand to stop my explanation. “I meant that as a compliment. Mac’s a good guy, the best of the best, but you’re far more easy on the eyes.” He turned toward me, putting his knee on the bench between us so he could face me. “I brought you this. One of the makeup artists always makes them, and they go fast.”
I took the paper plate he offered. On it was a rice crispy treat with a thick layer of chocolate on top. “Thanks.”
He smiled. “I’m the props master.” The way he drew out that last word was a little obvious, but it was clear he’d been drinking. I couldn’t fault him for that, not after my trip to Kylie’s bar the other night.
“How long have you been working in the props department?”
He started to answer and then shook his finger at me. “You’re not getting my age out of me that easily, young lady.”
Okay, that was a bit of a non sequitur. Did he think I was flirting with him?
“Let’s just say that I’m old enough to know what I’m doing.”
He was definitely flirting. I had a feeling the beer he was currently guzzling wasn’t his second, like mine was.
I finished up my pizza. One slice of extra thick, extra gooey Chicago-style pizza was more than enough. “It was nice meeting you, Jared. I’m going to go mingle.”
Though my beer was only half finished, I left it on the table as I headed off. The idea of speeding down the open road tomorrow sounded wonderful, and I didn’t want to risk a repeat of how I’d felt yesterday morning.
As I wove through the crowd, snippets of conversation hit me. Most were about the movie. A few were about weekend plans. And one group of women were talking about how hot someone looked tonight. I wondered if they were talking about one of my housemates. All three seemed like likely candidates for a crush—at least until Aiden opened his mouth.
At the far end of the space, a group of people—mostly men—were singing some song I’d never heard before. Well, drunkenly singing it. What was next, roasting marshmallows over the fire and telling ghost stories?
Then I sensed a presence next to me and an arm slid around my shoulders. My first thought was Mac, but the person next to me wasn’t tall enough. Ford, maybe?
Then hot breath hit my ear. “I’d be more than happy to mingle with you, baby.”
Crap, Jared had followed me. I wiggled out from under his arm. “Not interested.”