If Eve were willing to give her a recommendation, Grace might be able to slip in on the ground floor of a company. And Eve seemed to like her. In fact, she treated Grace like an equal, as if she weren’t a stranger in a strange land. Maybe her time in Wyoming would be less like limbo and more like a season away from her real life. Nothing to be taken seriously, but nothing terrible either.
She looked up from entering lot dimensions into a laptop and caught Cole looking at her. She aimed her most emotionless stare at him.
Okay, not a season away from her real love life, apparently. That was as screwed up and nonsensical as ever.
Cole looked away first. Good. She didn’t know what the hell he was so upset about. She hadn’t taken anything from him. He was still at the ranch, still walking around in his tight, dirty jeans and button-down shirt. Still wearing his scuffed cowboy boots and worn hat.
He glanced up and found her still looking, then tugged the brim lower before turning away.
Grace smiled and bent back to her task.
Did he think she couldn’t handle this? Sex without the niceness? Hell, that was the way she preferred it. He could call her anything he wanted; he couldn’t take back her orgasms. And that was the point of sex, after all. Getting off. So, a complete success.
Ignoring the fact that she seemed to be trying to talk herself into something, Grace held her smile. But it fell away when her eye caught on a woman who looked familiar.
Grace looked down at the computer, then slowly up again. This time the young blonde woman was looking back at her, and Grace’s heart sped up. She knew this woman, but how? Her ice-blond hair was cut into a symmetrical bob that framed her lush face. Her eyes narrowed on Grace, but this time, Grace didn’t look away.
Who was she?
Grace suddenly placed her, picturing her lips painted red and her petite body encased in a skintight scarlet dress. She’d met this woman at a party once. But which one?
Though Grace looked back to the spreadsheet on the computer screen, she didn’t see it. She was rifling through memories, instead. A year ago, there wouldn’t have been nearly as many parties to remember, and few that a woman like that would’ve attended.
But Scott had made his mark on Grace’s life. At first, his gentle suggestions about her career had felt like help. She’d been a great makeup artist, in demand with a certain population. Artsy filmmakers and independents had loved her. But Scott had pushed her to want more and try harder.
At first it had been thrilling, getting work on big-budget movies, but she hadn’t quite fit in. And she’d rubbed people the wrong way. But Scott had been so happy. She’d been his ticket from TV to film. Introductions. Industry parties. He’d been thrilled. And Grace had been miserable.
She might’ve broken it off at that point, but then she’d been fired. And bad-mouthed by that asshole director. And Scott had let her move into his place. A favor. A blessing.
But after a while she’d become extraneous. Worse than that. She’d become a liability. An edgy girl in a world of glamour. A tough girl forced to rub elbows with beauties like that blonde.
Who was she? More important, did she know Scott?
Grace looked back up, trying to seem natural instead of nervous. The woman was gone. Grace slumped in relief.
Nothing to be worried about. Everything was fine.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Hello,” a cool voice said from just behind her.
Grace spun around to find the blonde eyeing her with a less than friendly smile.
“You’re with the scouting team?”
“Yes. Hi,” Grace said.
“I’m Willa,” the woman said, not offering a hand. “Willa James.”
“I’m Grace.”
Her fake smile tightened. “Grace,” she repeated. “Of course. You’re from L.A., right? We’ve met before.”
Grace’s heart began to pound, but she tried to tell herself it was fine. She’d met thousands of people during her career. Hell, she might have even met thousands of people at parties.
“I am,” she finally said, and left it at that.
Willa. Her mind scrambled. Willa. Willa, who was the girlfriend of Malcolm? Who was a good friend of Diane. Who maybe knew Scott from—