I didn’t want to cook in his house. I already felt like some fifties housewife. I walked to the window and looked out over the dark field and toward the airport. I should go outside. I’d be able to see his plane from there.

When I stepped outside I realized I forgot my shoes. I think they were by Cocky’s bathroom, where I had slipped them off. I considered going back, but stepped out onto the front porch and to the steps. I sat on the first big step, the wood damp from the afternoon rain, and wrapped my arms around my knees, my head lifted toward the sky. It was cloudy, the moon brightly illuminating the clouds and shadows, bright points of stars dotting the black canvas beneath. I read in a magazine once about light pollution. It is a real thing, our millions of artificial lights eating away at our world’s darkness and ruining our ability to see the galaxies beyond us. Like smog, but instead of eating clean air, our lights eat pitch black, and leave us all in a haze of dusk. I could see it when I looked south to Tallahassee. The entire horizon glowed in that direction; the city lights diluting the big city residents their chance at perfect star gazing.

I didn’t think we’d ever have that problem in Quincy. Even with the Pit’s kliegs that ran constantly, crews working until late setting up for each next day… our sky was still perfect, its stars clearly defined.

I wondered, not for the first time since cashing my movie paycheck, where I would go from here. With more money than I’d ever had, I had no excuse to stay. I could buy Mama a house and move along with my life. I could move anywhere, do anything. Go to college, take art lessons, buy a horse.

Anything.

A terrifying concept.

Above me, a plane approached.

“Well, sure, Scott cheated. He’s a man… they make mistakes. But you know, the Bible says that you should forgive them. Not bring the wrath of hell. That’s for God to do, not us. Our job is to forgive and forget.”

“Has your family forgiven Summer?

“Well, no. Some things are just unforgiveable, and what she did was one of them. If we all just forgave her, then she wouldn’t learn her lesson.”

CHAPTER 80

“Congrats man.” Justin walked from the back of the plane, his hand patting Cole’s shoulder as he passed. Taking the seat across from him, he popped the cap off a beer and held it out.

“I’m good.” Cole waved it off. “You sleep well?”

“I did ’til we hit that turbulence.” He shrugged. “It’ll be fine. My painkillers put me under, so I’ll pop a few of those when we get to your place.”

Cole shook his head. “No. You’re not staying with me.”

Justin’s beer stopped at his lips, his eyebrows raised. “I’m not?”

“No. Sorry. There’s a bed and breakfast in town. You can stay there.” Cole moved the curtain and glanced out the window.

Justin chuckled. “Anxious to get there?”

“I’m just tired of traveling. Plus, I can’t wait to see your reaction to Quincy.”

“It can’t be as bad as Bismarck. At least there’s no snow.”

Cole smiled. “It’s not Bismarck. Tomorrow, after filming, I’ll give you the tour.”

Justin glanced at his watch. “You’re really not letting me stay with you? I had my hopes set on seeing Casa Rooster.”

“Sorry.” Cole sat back in the seat. His fingers tapped against his leg, and he looked out, anxious for the small lights of Quincy.

He dropped Justin off at the Raine House and pulled off, the streets quiet, streetlights dim, the clock on the courthouse glowing in the dark. He hadn’t realized, with the time change, how late he would be getting back. Rubbing at an ache on the back of his neck, he contemplated calling Summer. It had been an inner debate that had lasted all day. He’d been holding back itchy fingers ever since she had hung up on him. Goodbye Cole. He shifted in his seat.

When he pulled down the drive, a light was on in the back of the house, the glow hitting a few rooms, and he sat in the truck for a minute, the engine off, and watched it. Was she in there? He hadn’t been thinking when he had said that—putting into words what he had wanted to do since the day she opened her front door.

The minute I get off that plane I will drive there, pin you down on my bed, and worship your pussy. I won’t stop until my mouth is imprinted on your mind and your taste is my fucking middle name.”

He winced at the memory. Maybe she didn’t hear it. Maybe she put up Cocky and was sitting at her own house, not even thinking about the possibility of a night full of fucking. He pushed on the front of his jeans, willing his cock to soften. Yeah, she was probably at home, doing her own thing, oblivious to the thoughts that Cole had been having all day.

He opened the door and got out, grabbing his leather duffel from the backseat and walking up the front stairs. When he opened the front door, he knew instantly that she wasn’t there.

CHAPTER 81

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t wait there and be his sex toy, no matter how much I’d enjoy it. Cole Masten was dangerous to my heart, to my self-worth, to my future self.

I would film this movie with him.

I would cash my check.

And then I would get out of Quincy.

CHAPTER 82

The next morning, I studied my bagel with particular interest when Cole walked in. We were in one of the conference rooms, one of those random meetings scheduled for no clear purpose. I’d been dreading it since I woke up that morning, unsure how to interact with the man who I had just had phone sex with. I mean, I thought it was phone sex. I always thought phone sex would be more complex, detailed descriptions needed from both parties, more directions involved, the entire thing lasting longer than our quick encounter had been. But I came. And I thought he came. And we’d been on the phone. So… yeah. I was pretty sure that was what phone sex was all about.

My bagel was wheat. I hated wheat. Unless it had blueberries. But Mary said they didn’t have blueberry, even though two seats down, one of the ADs was going to town on one, and I could see the blue dots on it. She smeared strawberry cream cheese on the top in an attempt to make up for it, but I didn’t like flavored cream cheese, a preference that, if I pointed it out now, would only make me look difficult. So I was stuck with this bastard of a breakfast creation, her beady eyes glued to me, just waiting for me to take a bite so that she could cross one neatly-written item off her list: Feed Summer. I took a small bite. Yep. Nasty.

I could feel when he sat down in the seat next to mine, his long legs stretching out under the table, one bumping against me, and I shifted, pulling my feet under my chair, his shoulder coming into my peripheral vision as he leaned over. I ignored him, my study of the top of the bagel unwavering in its intensity.