The woman’s condescension after she’d just confided in her like a quasi-friend fried Brooke’s last nerve. She wanted to tell her boss a hard work week was spending two shifts on your feet at the hospital taking care of others, another twenty hours in the classroom cramming information into your brain, another thirty studying everything you’d learned over and over, and the remainder of the time raising your severely asthmatic, terribly brilliant eight-year-old when you had to calculate how much you could spend on dinner every night so you didn’t run out of money before you could get a full-time job. With no fucking spa day in sight.
Instead, she offered a dutiful “Of course,” exited the trailer, and headed straight toward the person who always made her feel better. About everything.
Keaton wiped his hands on a towel and slipped his gloves back on. He glanced up and found Brooke still sitting off in a corner, talking on the phone, her face illuminated by the screen of her iPad.
He wished he had his phone so he could text her right now. Ask her to go out to dinner with him tonight. He wanted to take her somewhere nice. Somewhere she could wear a pretty dress and heels. Where they could get a bottle of wine and appetizers and sit for hours. Talk and eat and laugh and hold hands and kiss.
But it was just as well that he didn’t have his phone. Because he couldn’t ask her to do that. There were too many members of various film crews swarming this town to risk someone seeing them alone together. They couldn’t chance starting a rumor. Their rendezvous would have to be private for the time being, which was fine with Keaton. There was nothing he wanted more. But he also wanted Brooke to know that this was about more than just sex for him. That he’d meant what he’d said last night.
Cameron came up to Keaton and offered him a bottle of water. Keaton took it and tipped it to his mouth, drinking deep.
The stagehand belaying the ropes for Keaton’s fight sequence, Russ, approached to get Cam’s news.
“Our stunt double’s currently stuck in the Calgary airport,” Cam said, taking a swig from his own water. “Her plane needs a part for the tail. And since it’s a Swedish airline, and it seems there is only one of these parts currently in existence, take one guess where that part has to come from.”
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” Keaton said.
“Nope. And that one thing is backing up all the flights, so she can’t get even get a decent standby spot until tomorrow.”
“Where’s FedEx when you need ’em?” Russ asked.
Cameron laughed. “She’ll be here tomorrow.” He looked at the set, then told Keaton, “I guess we could just skip over that part of the stunt and practice the ending fight.”
“The last fight is easy. We barely need a run-through to be ready there. I want to get this film back on schedule.”
Russ scratched his head and glanced around the warehouse. “What about pulling in a replacement? We’ve got a lot of fresh meat to choose from.”
Keaton thought about that for a moment. He glanced at the maze of metal, then scanned the catwalk to the jump point. From there his gaze darted to the landing point. “For you to get the pull on the ropes just right,” he told Russ, “it would have to be someone very close to Jillian’s weight. Otherwise, we’d be wasting our time. And Jillian’s skin and bones.”
“She’s not that small,” Russ said. “She’s tall, so her weight is distributed, but I’d bet she weighs a solid one hundred and twenty. She was in here yesterday bragging about her weight-lifting routine.”
Keaton huffed. Whatever. He wasn’t even going there.
“Okay, who have we got?” Cam said, turning to scan the other staff and crew. “Alana? Grace? Hell, I don’t think Mack weighs over a hundred and ten.”
Keaton’s gaze darted to Brooke. She was perfect. And just the thought of hooking her into safety lines and flying across the warehouse with her gave his belly a tingle. She would love it. But they were keeping their distance at work. So he said, “Sure, any one of those should—”
“I’d rather not use Mack,” Russ told them. “Men are just denser than women, and it may sound weird, but I’ve worked these cables a long time, and there’s a difference when I try to lift them. I think Alana’s about twenty pounds too heavy, and Grace is a serious lightweight. She might be ninety-eight pounds soaking wet.”
Keaton heaved a breath and rubbed a hand over his face, then pointed to a young intern. “There’s Logan.”
“Nah, too heavy.” Russ said. “Hey, didn’t I see Brooke over there in the corner? She’s just about right.”
There was no “about” to it. Brooke was perfect—in more ways than how her weight would work for this stunt. But Keaton wanted to keep her just right, so he said “She wouldn’t be interested—”
“How do you know, man?” Cam said. “You haven’t even asked. Yo, Brooke,” he called before Keaton could stop him. She looked up. “Can you come over for a second?”
She hesitated, glanced around the wareh
ouse, then stood and started toward them. She’d dressed down today—casual Friday, she’d told him last night—in jean shorts and a sleeveless blouse that gently followed the curves of her breasts and abdomen, stopping just beyond the low waistband of her jeans, teasing Keaton into believing he’d get a glimpse of skin if she moved just the right way.
The filtered sun from the skylights above created an ethereal halo around her. Her sandals made the softest clip, clip, clip across the cement and sparkled in the scattered light. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, played down her makeup, and looked so fuckin’ adorable, Keaton wanted to eat her alive. He wanted to take her somewhere tropical and secluded where she could dress in string bikinis—or nothing—twenty-four hours a day. Where they could lose themselves in each other for an entire month. In fact, he never wanted to let anything get between them again.
She slipped her hands into her pockets and came to a stop in front of them with a sweet smile on her beautiful face, her bright eyes alight with her characteristic eagerness to please. Keaton’s heart rolled in his chest. He’d found his girl. His very own perfect match, the same way so many of his Renegades buddies had finally found theirs. He knew it with complete certainty, and the realization created an effervescent sizzle over his skin.
In that moment, as she shared a secret smile with him, everything inside Keaton calmed. And with all the chaos quieted, his emotions came forward, taking center stage, telling him that Brooke wasn’t just his girl. Brooke was The One.
“What’s up, guys?” she asked. “Can I grab you some water? Do you need a lunch run?”