Troy let his arms fall. Let his eyes close. The euphoria evaporated, and darkness settled in.
“Wrap it.” Those words meant all the takes were good, the editors could piece together the stunt in various views, and he wouldn’t have to run this again, which pleased him one way and disappointed him in another.
The machine holding him suspended now pulled him up, and he found himself hoping Giselle and her groupies were gone by the time he reached the cave floor. But when the lip of the cavern came into view, and the decelerator stopped, they were all still there.
Fuck.
Troy used his legs to swing himself toward the edge and caught Keaton’s hand. His buddy pulled him in, and Troy climbed from the cavern to all the typical high-five fanfare that accompanied the wrap of every successful stunt—a reaffirmation of life for the stuntman, a celebration of good work for the crew. But the sense of satisfaction Troy always felt at this point in a stunt was absent. He felt more dead than alive with Giselle looking on.
Sweat slid down his face, neck, and chest. He needed space. Needed quiet. Needed air. Wanted to get out of this goddamned tomb and away from Giselle, who looked like a fucking goddess in those cut-offs, but Jeff approached, his hand out. “Kick-ass as always.”
Troy caught a towel one of the crew members tossed to him and wiped down as he shook Jeff’s hand. “Thanks.”
Then Jeff wrapped his arm around Troy’s shoulders and walked him toward the group. This kind of behavior generally meant Jeff had an idea he wanted to put past Troy. Some freaky new change to the script he’d whipped out of his ass overnight, and one that usually threw a wrench into the lives of the cast and crew, who were already escaping the cave as if they knew what was coming.
Giselle had her arms crossed, and she was leaning into one hip, but she didn’t look comfortable. Considering how she’d suffered from claustrophobia most of her life after being stuffed away in closets, cellars, crawl spaces, or car trunks whenever her mother was high or sick of being a parent—which was just about every day—Troy was surprised she was still here at all.
“I wanted to tell you that Giselle’s agreed to do a cameo for us.” It took a second for Jeff’s words to register. When they did, Troy’s stomach dropped. Again.
He was destined to be tortured. Served him damn right. This was karma coming back to bite him in the ass. “Really.”
“She’s going to play Guzman’s love interest. We’ll be integrating her into several scenes over the next week.”
Which meant Troy got to think about Guzman’s hands and mouth all over her for the next week. Perfect.
He settled his gaze on Giselle and tried to act like the adult he should be by now instead of the two-year-old who was throwing a tantrum inside him. “I hope it will get you where you want to go.”
Her brows pulled in a little frown.
“So…” Jeff’s eyes narrowed on Troy’s. “This won’t be a problem?”
He shrugged, but he never let his gaze leave Giselle’s. “There would only be a problem if she was doing stunts, because in stunt work, trust is required. But since she’s not…”
He trailed off and held his hands out wide.
Jeff’s face broke into a cautious smile. “I’m glad to see this is going to work out for everyone.” He gestured toward the cave opening behind them and spoke to the group. “Let’s stop to cool down and grab a drink in the dining hall.”
They all turned, everyone but Giselle, who kept her gaze on Troy’s.
“Giselle?” Chad said, waiting by the cave entrance.
She glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll catch up.”
When she turned back, Troy crossed his arms and set his feet wide, prepared for just about anything. But he was glad John had wrapped that stunt, because now Troy wouldn’t have to spend any more time trying to focus on falling down a very tight rock hole without breaking his skull when the only thing filling his mind were flashes of images from their night together at the club.
She pushed her hands into the front pockets of her shorts. The move made her look ridiculously innocent and country-girl fresh. “You probably already know Jeff saw us at the mixer
.”
He shrugged.
“Based on our kiss, he’s convinced I’m the perfect person to add passion to the film.”
And what the hell did he say to that? He kept his mouth shut as the last of the crew took a break topside.
Troy found it insanely painful to just stand there with her. Pretend to be normal. Pretend to have a normal conversation when there was so much intense history between them. When she was the only person he ever had—or ever would—give himself over to, heart and soul. When she still owned both.
She heaved an uneasy sigh as her gaze darted around the cave before landing on him again. “I realize I might have overreacted at the mixer, and I’m sorry about that. I’m still really confused about how I feel and what I think about all this. And I don’t have the time or the…” she gestured to her head, struggling for a description, “brain power, I guess, to work through it all right now. But I don’t want any more conflict between us. It’s too complicated to explain now, but this part is really important to me, and it’s going to be hard enough as it stands. Stress with you would push me over a very brittle edge.”