“The contract didn’t say anything about me being naked on camera.”

“Correction. The contract didn’t say anything about you not being naked on camera. That is a very important distinction, and it’s not my fault your dimwit ex missed that.”

There was a horrific moment of weakness when my bottom lip trembled, nerves inside of me breaking, one by one. “Please go away.” My voice cracked on the first word, and out of the edge of blurry eyes I saw him move closer, his knees hitting the floor beside the couch.

“Summer.” His voice was quiet, softer, but I didn’t look over, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my weakness.

“I’m not doing it. I haven’t…” I stared at the top of Judge Judy’s head and blinked quickly. “I haven’t been naked in front of anyone in a long time. Other than… you know.” Other than you. A stupid disclosure to have to add. I ran a backwards palm across my cheek, my pinky catching the moisture of a stack of unshed tears. “And I’m not doing it now, not in front of all of those people—” My words almost hiccupped, and I stopped. Pulled up my T-shirt, over my chin, and pressed the material into my wet eyes. Those lights. God, when he and I were being filmed, you could stand in Thomasville and see the details of our faces, we were lit so strongly. What would it be like to be naked under those lights?

“You’re not really naked—” Cole started, and I snorted against my shirt. The outfit that Wardrobe had dropped off was a set of pasties—two nude ones for my breasts and then one long panty-liner looking one, which I was supposed to stick in between my legs. I had tried it, had peeled off the backing and gently, then more firmly, pressed the cold stickers against my flesh, my reflection in the mirror too much for me to look at. That was when you knew you were doing something wrong, when you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror to face it. Now, under my T-shirt, the pasties pulled a little on my skin when I shifted, a constant reminder of the disaster looming before me.

“Summer…” His voice was calming and sweet, a plea for something, and it made me madder than a branded bull, my hands dropping from my face, the T-shirt falling, my head turning to him. He was still on his knees, and I caught him mid-motion, his hand moving back to his thighs. He’d been checking his watch. Any weakness in me vanished, and I gripped onto my anger and held it like a shield. He’d been checking his watch. Screw the concerned face, the friendly and caring position, Cole Masten, kneeling beside his injured costar, his voice tugging at her to behave. Screw my contract; if I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t have to do it. We’d filmed too many scenes, it’d be too expensive for them to start over with a new Ida.

“Get off my floor.” My tone was a knife, solid and sharp, and Cole looked up in surprise. I swung my feet off the couch and stood, the sticker between my legs pulling painfully at little hairs, the entire ensemble covered by a pair of sweatpants.

Cole didn’t move. Of course. The man couldn’t—wouldn’t—do what anyone told him. He just watched me, and I stopped before the front window of the trailer and peeked through the blinds. There was a group still out there. Don was there, as was Eileen, as were the requisite PAs and Mary, her pen moving furiously over a new Post-It, and I could imagine it stuck to her bathroom mirror at her hotel, her frantic message bright and red on the yellow. Find A New Job.

I dropped my hand from the blinds, and they fell back into place. “The movie doesn’t need the sex scene.”

“It’s the climax of the relationship arc. Of course it does.” Cole finally stood, easing up slowly, and he met my eyes when he spoke, the authority back in his voice, his coddling tone from earlier gone.

“A body double.” The idea was sudden and brilliant, and I hated that I hadn’t thought of it before. It happened all the time, I remembered watching Pretty Woman after reading that Julia Roberts had used one. I’d stared at every single clip of their love scenes and could never see anything that gave it away. “There’s got to be some clause I can sign, and you can use a double. Easy!” My hand trembled against the top of my air conditioning unit, and I squeezed it into a fist to stop the shake. This would be fine; this could be fixed. I moved to the door, Cole stepping forward as if to stop me, and I yanked it open. “Don!” I called, the director turning from the crowd, his head tilting up at me. I waved him in, and Cole groaned, lifting his hands, his fingers finding each other, linking, and settling onto the top of his head. Don ducked in the trailer, the door shut, and now it was really crowded.

“I want a body double.” I chirped out my new idea, standing close to Don, my arms crossed around my chest, and I watched closely as Don glanced at Cole.

Cole shrugged his shoulders, his face impassive and stubborn. “Isn’t happening. We don’t have a five-foot-six blonde in your body type just lying around the set, waiting to strip off her clothes and get in front of the camera. And we don’t have time to go through casting. That could take a week, or longer, which we can’t afford.”

I focused on Don. “Florida State is forty-five minutes away.” I gestured in the general direction of Tallahassee. “You have twenty thousand college girls there. Trust me, you’ll find someone who would be more than happy to strip naked and hop into bed with him.” I felt an odd burn of something dark, the image too clear in my mind, and I pushed it aside.

“Glad to know that our Pecan Queen knows casting so well.”

I glared at Cole. “I know that if we put up a tent on Landis Green you’ll have two hundred girls stripping naked for a casting camera within two hours. If you can’t find one who looks like me before dinner time, I’ll—”

“What?” Cole cut in. “You’ll do the shoot?” He stepped forward, his hands dropping from his head, a smile curving over his face. “Let’s make a bet, Country.” He glanced back at his watch as if he couldn’t remember the time. “It’s eight-thirty. Right now, let’s pack up some cameras and a team, and do it. Take your ridiculous suggestion and see. But if we don’t find a girl by six o’clock tonight, then you’re filming this, first thing tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to hear shit about it. No tears, no woe is me bullshit. You’re gonna man up, and be a professional about it.”

I rolled my bottom lip against my teeth, and glanced at Don who looked back and forth between Cole and me like we were insane. “Okay.” I nodded. “But I’m coming, so are Don and Eileen. If three of the four of us agree that a girl will work, then I win, and I don’t have to do the scene at all.”

Don stepped in, holding up a hand. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but if this has any chance of working, I’d need you to do some close up stuff. Kissing, gasping, et cetera.”

“But you could do that with a strapless bra on,” Cole interjected. “And shorts.” He stuck out his hand. “Deal?”

I shook it without pausing to think, without pausing to examine the details or require more stipulations. I shook and felt an enormous wave of relief.

The man, I was certain, had never been to Florida State. It was where God vomited all of his beauties. We wouldn’t need until six o’clock. We’d have a dozen options by lunch.

CHAPTER 85

“If you weren’t financing this movie, I’d have you fired. An impromptu public casting call? On a film day?” Don stood in the middle of activity, his arms waving in the air like an inflatable tube man, his face a dark shade of red, sweat streaking down his temples. Behind him, one of the set trailers was being packed up, a dozen people moving in concert—lights, rigs, cables, and signage flowing in one smooth sea of motion.