“She doesn’t want to come,” Jethro said, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his mouth curved in a wry—albeit small—smile. “She’s busy.”
“No, I’m not,” I blurted, frowning at Jethro, irritated he would assume I was busy. Or maybe he just didn’t want me there. Either way, seeing him every day without touching him left me raw, but I also recognized it fed some sort of addiction. I wanted more of it, more of his time, more of seeing him.
He met my frown with one of his own, like my words surprised him. “You’re not? Aren’t you leaving town on Saturday?”
I clenched my jaw, standing straighter and lifting my chin. Defiance. That’s what I felt. Defiance in the face of him trying to make excuses not to see me outside our structured morning truck ride.
“I have a trip Saturday, but I’m completely free tomorrow. Completely. No plans at all. I have nothing at all to do.” Then to Cletus I said, “I accept. What can I bring, and when should I be there?”
Cletus gave me a crooked grin. His round eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just bring yourself. That’ll be more than enough.”
“Sienna.”
The three of us turned toward the sound of my name and I struggled to keep a grimace from my face.
Tom was back. The last week had been so peaceful without him. He was jogging toward me, looking like an advertisement for men’s casual fashion and overpriced body spray. Elon had to speed-walk to keep up.
“Sí-sí,” he said as he drew closer, giving me his trademark adorable man grin. “There you are.”
“Yes. I am here. Here I am.” I don’t know why, but I inserted myself between Cletus and Jethro. “Tom, this is Jethro and Cletus Winston. Cletus, Jethro, this is Tom Low.”
“Mr. Low,” Cletus said, not looking at him. “I enjoyed your film, The Wall Street Connection.”
“Thank you,” Tom responded, shaking each of their hands in turn. He scrutinized them both. Cletus kept his eyes on the grass, whereas Jethro met Tom’s gaze directly and gave him an easy smile, seemingly unaffected by the movie star’s presence.
Tom clearly noticed Jethro’s polite indifference to his star status. I watched with mounting trepidation as my co-star affixed his narrowed glare on Jethro.
“Do you want an autograph?” he asked with forced graciousness. “I’m afraid I don’t have a pen.”
“That’s not necessary, sir.” Jethro waved off his offer with a friendly smile, but it was still obvious Jethro had no idea who Tom was. Nor did he care.
Tom studied Jethro for a beat longer, dislike evident in his expression, then turned his attention to me.
“Sí-sí, I’m so sorry about Smash-Girl.” He clicked his teeth. “Do you know why they changed their minds?”
“Uh . . .” my eyes flickered to Jethro then back to Tom, “I think they’re looking for someone shorter.”
Tom’s gaze slid down then up my body and I sensed Jethro stiffen. The ranger took a step closer, shifting his weight to his foot behind me.
“Have you thought about asking the production staff for the low-carb option? Both Elon and I are having our meals delivered to my trailer, and they’re honestly not bad. Well, not bad considering where we are.”
I gathered a deep breath for patience just as Jethro’s chest brushed against my back. I don’t know if he meant to do it, but it felt reassuring, as though he were silently communicating I’ve got your back.
“No,” I said, “I haven’t asked for the low-carb meals.”
Tom’s attention flickered to my boobs then back to my face. “You should. Just give it a try. Maybe they’ll reconsider you for Smash-Girl.”
Before I could respond with a subject change or an excuse to leave, Jethro asked with a hint of irritation, “How’s eating low-carb going to make Sienna shorter?”
Tom blinked once, his glare shifting to Jethro, the muscle at his jaw ticking. “I’ve been thinking of giving that look a try.” He lifted his chin toward Jethro. “Do you have any tips?”
Jethro’s chest pressed more fully against my back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Where I’m from,” Tom tilted his head to the side, “they call your kind a hipster or a lumbersexual, with the beard and flannel and such.”
Without missing beat, Jethro responded, “Ah. See, where I’m from, they call my kind a man.” Jethro gently placed his hand on my upper arm. “And this here is a woman, and so is that.” He pointed at Elon.
“Ha ha, you’re funny.” Tom’s voice lacked humor, and his grin resembled an aggressive baring of teeth. “What do they call my kind? Movie star, right?”