I’m finished with my task when I spot Dash over in the main barn. “What do you think?” Dash gestures to the set. If I’m the most polished person here, he’s definitely the scruffiest, in his usual work uniform of jeans and a vintage band T-shirt.
“It’s funny how much work goes into making something look natural,” I look around. The set decorators came in and cleaned the place out before re-stacking bales of hay and hanging gleaming prop bridles over the stable doors.
“Tell me about it. But the set-up was all wrong, we want a clear shot all the way to the back, see. So when Blake comes in leading the horse, he’s like, a silhouette backlit by the sun.”
Dash holds up his hands, framing the image. I can see it already. “Maybe don’t have the horse with him,” I suggest. “What if he just has the saddle slung over one shoulder? It’s more iconic like that.”
I stop, wondering if I’ve overstepped my bounds again. I’m just an assistant, after all. But Dash nods. “I like that. Then it’s a quiet moment, he’s alone with his thoughts.”
“All dark and broody,” I note.
“Abso-fucking-lutely, darlin’.” Dash laughs along. “What’s a great love story without a great heartbreak too?”
I don’t reply. I wouldn’t know anything about real love; the longest relationship I’ve ever had was four dates with Etienne, a charming French rock musician who was plenty of fun, but too irresponsible to take seriously.
Four dates, and six years of crushing on Blake. It’s hardly a great romantic history.
I feel a shiver suddenly run down my spine. Blake. I can feel his presence somehow, and sure enough, when I glance up from the script, he’s out in the paddock, about thirty feet away, watching us through the barn entrance.
When I turn back to Dash, he’s looking at me with an amused smirk.
“What?” I gulp, self-conscious.
He chuckles. “Never mind the script, I could make a whole movie about what’s going on right here on set.”
I flush. The last thing I want is to be unprofessional. “Is it really that obvious?”
“Just to me.” Dash smiles. “You’re ruining my schedule. Every time you walk past, Blake flubs one of his lines. When are you going to put the poor guy out of his misery?”
“I’m not the problem!” I protest. “He’s the one who keeps blowing me off.”
“Huh.” Dash glances back again, then gives me a mischievous smile. “Well, you know the one thing that’s guaranteed to light a fire under a guy’s ass?”
I shake my head. Believe me, if I knew, I would have tried it by now.
Dash grins. “Jealousy.”
He steps closer to me, and slings a casual arm over my shoulder, pretending to show me something in the schedule. “I bet you twenty bucks our boy will come running,” he murmurs in my ear.
I don’t even have time to wonder if he’s right, because a few moments later, I hear footsteps come up briskly behind us.
I slowly turn, hiding the smile that wants to stretch across my face every time I see Blake.
Damn, he looks good.
He’s still dressed in his costume for the scene: worn jeans that hug his ass and a plaid shirt. His million-dollar smile seems forced as he looks back and forth between me and Dash. “What’s up?” he asks, sounding tense.
“Nothing much.” I give him a vague smile. “Dash was just taking me through the shot list. It looks amazing,” I add, turning back to Dash. If I’m going to try and make Blake jealous, I need to pull out all the stops. “I’ve been wondering, when did you get into the business?” I coo, gazing up at Dash. “I can’t believe Tightrope was your first movie.”
“You saw that thing?” Dash chuckles. “Man, that takes me back. I shot that thing when I was still in college, just me and some buddies on borrowed equipment.”
“I loved it,” I tell him honestly. “You really captured what it feels like to be out in the world for the first time, trying to make adult decisions.”
Dash gives me a look, like he knows exactly what I’m playing at. “Well, thanks, Zoey, that means a lot.”
Blake clears his throat behind me. “Are we going to get set up then?” he asks, sounding annoyed. I have to hide my grin. It’s working!
“Sure, give me a sec,” Dash replies. “So, you got any plans for the weekend?” he asks me, casually leaning against a stable door.
He’s playing along too!
I give a flirty little smile. “You mean besides working eighteen-hour days for you?”
“You’re exaggerating.” Dash smirks, pushing back his mess of dark curls. I’ve seen him sweet-talk the other actors during tough moments on set, but this is the first time he’s directed the full force of his legendary charm on me.
It’s pretty impressive.
“Not even a little.” I give an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be one of the little people. Us regular folks without a trailer and a fancy name on our chair.”
Dash groans. “You make me sound like some kind of dictator.”
“A king?” I suggest playfully.
“That’s better.” Dash’s dark eyes flash with mischief. “Wise and benevolent.”
I laugh. “And so humble too.”
My heart is racing at our flirty banter, knowing that Blake is right there, listening to every word. This is fun!
“It’s funny how much work goes into making something look natural,” I look around. The set decorators came in and cleaned the place out before re-stacking bales of hay and hanging gleaming prop bridles over the stable doors.
“Tell me about it. But the set-up was all wrong, we want a clear shot all the way to the back, see. So when Blake comes in leading the horse, he’s like, a silhouette backlit by the sun.”
Dash holds up his hands, framing the image. I can see it already. “Maybe don’t have the horse with him,” I suggest. “What if he just has the saddle slung over one shoulder? It’s more iconic like that.”
I stop, wondering if I’ve overstepped my bounds again. I’m just an assistant, after all. But Dash nods. “I like that. Then it’s a quiet moment, he’s alone with his thoughts.”
“All dark and broody,” I note.
“Abso-fucking-lutely, darlin’.” Dash laughs along. “What’s a great love story without a great heartbreak too?”
I don’t reply. I wouldn’t know anything about real love; the longest relationship I’ve ever had was four dates with Etienne, a charming French rock musician who was plenty of fun, but too irresponsible to take seriously.
Four dates, and six years of crushing on Blake. It’s hardly a great romantic history.
I feel a shiver suddenly run down my spine. Blake. I can feel his presence somehow, and sure enough, when I glance up from the script, he’s out in the paddock, about thirty feet away, watching us through the barn entrance.
When I turn back to Dash, he’s looking at me with an amused smirk.
“What?” I gulp, self-conscious.
He chuckles. “Never mind the script, I could make a whole movie about what’s going on right here on set.”
I flush. The last thing I want is to be unprofessional. “Is it really that obvious?”
“Just to me.” Dash smiles. “You’re ruining my schedule. Every time you walk past, Blake flubs one of his lines. When are you going to put the poor guy out of his misery?”
“I’m not the problem!” I protest. “He’s the one who keeps blowing me off.”
“Huh.” Dash glances back again, then gives me a mischievous smile. “Well, you know the one thing that’s guaranteed to light a fire under a guy’s ass?”
I shake my head. Believe me, if I knew, I would have tried it by now.
Dash grins. “Jealousy.”
He steps closer to me, and slings a casual arm over my shoulder, pretending to show me something in the schedule. “I bet you twenty bucks our boy will come running,” he murmurs in my ear.
I don’t even have time to wonder if he’s right, because a few moments later, I hear footsteps come up briskly behind us.
I slowly turn, hiding the smile that wants to stretch across my face every time I see Blake.
Damn, he looks good.
He’s still dressed in his costume for the scene: worn jeans that hug his ass and a plaid shirt. His million-dollar smile seems forced as he looks back and forth between me and Dash. “What’s up?” he asks, sounding tense.
“Nothing much.” I give him a vague smile. “Dash was just taking me through the shot list. It looks amazing,” I add, turning back to Dash. If I’m going to try and make Blake jealous, I need to pull out all the stops. “I’ve been wondering, when did you get into the business?” I coo, gazing up at Dash. “I can’t believe Tightrope was your first movie.”
“You saw that thing?” Dash chuckles. “Man, that takes me back. I shot that thing when I was still in college, just me and some buddies on borrowed equipment.”
“I loved it,” I tell him honestly. “You really captured what it feels like to be out in the world for the first time, trying to make adult decisions.”
Dash gives me a look, like he knows exactly what I’m playing at. “Well, thanks, Zoey, that means a lot.”
Blake clears his throat behind me. “Are we going to get set up then?” he asks, sounding annoyed. I have to hide my grin. It’s working!
“Sure, give me a sec,” Dash replies. “So, you got any plans for the weekend?” he asks me, casually leaning against a stable door.
He’s playing along too!
I give a flirty little smile. “You mean besides working eighteen-hour days for you?”
“You’re exaggerating.” Dash smirks, pushing back his mess of dark curls. I’ve seen him sweet-talk the other actors during tough moments on set, but this is the first time he’s directed the full force of his legendary charm on me.
It’s pretty impressive.
“Not even a little.” I give an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be one of the little people. Us regular folks without a trailer and a fancy name on our chair.”
Dash groans. “You make me sound like some kind of dictator.”
“A king?” I suggest playfully.
“That’s better.” Dash’s dark eyes flash with mischief. “Wise and benevolent.”
I laugh. “And so humble too.”
My heart is racing at our flirty banter, knowing that Blake is right there, listening to every word. This is fun!
