Page 10 of On Set

“Are you sure this is what you really want?” It’s a rhetorical question and Martha knows it. We had this exact conversation when I was contemplating the job offer.

“It’s a stepping-stone. That’s the only reason I took the job. If I can’t excel at being the director’s assistant, how can I expect the studio to give me the opportunity to manage an entire movie? They won’t. I have to prove I can handle the stress, that I’ll invest the time. My commitment.”

“Make sure you don’t invest your heart and soul. Once you give those away, you can’t get them back, sweetheart. Understand?”

Martha levels me with her signature motherly glare I’ve come to love over the years. Her concern is noted in the crinkle around her eyes. In the way her lips are pressed together tightly. If there’s one person in this world who cares about me, besides Austin and Hayden, it’s Martha. And her love and support is as unwavering as theirs.

Nodding once, I tear my eyes from hers and focus on the bread in front of me. The butter’s melted now, the top glistening. My mouth begins to water just thinking about the savory goodness. After ripping off a rather large piece, I shove it in my mouth and let out a moan as the delicious flavors hit my tongue.

My entire body relaxes at the familiarity of the taste.

Then the doorbell rings, the sound causing me to jump, and I almost tip out of my chair. Martha rounds the island, headed to answer the door, when I place my hand on her arm to stop her.

“I got it,” I say, my words muffled by the banana bread.

The doorbell rings again as I approach. Attempting to swallow the last of the bread in my mouth, I pull the handle, the door slowly swinging open to reveal Eli Simms in all his godlike glory holding his script in one hand and flowers in the other.

It should be illegal for a man to look that good in something as simple as jeans and a T-shirt.

The banana bread gets stuck in my throat as I greet him, causing me to choke on my words. Before I can process what’s happening, Eli’s by my side, patting me on my back. Once the bread clears, I chance a glance in his direction to find him smiling down at me, his pearly white teeth sparkling as the mid-afternoon sun streams through the still open door. His soft blue are eyes assessing me, concern evident in the way they flicker between my mouth and my still heaving chest.

“Hey,” I croak, drawing his attention to my eyes.

“Hey,” he echoes, reaching past me and pushing the door closed without ever breaking eye contact. “Thanks for helping me out. These are for you.”

Eli shoves the flowers in my direction, but I can’t seem to look away from him. His stare has me trapped. There’s something in his eyes that has those damn butterflies going crazy, my heart picking up the pace, and my knees feeling suddenly feeling weak. The words thank you are on the tip of my tongue but instead I stutter, “Wha-why?”

“For being nice. That seems to be a rarity in this business.”

Martha chooses that moment to swoop in, take the flowers from Eli, and disappear.

“So where do you want to do this?” he asks, finally breaking eye contact with me and slowly taking in the elaborate foyer of my mother’s home.

Where do I want to do this?

Do what?

Oh, yeah. We’re running lines.

Get your head out of the gutter, Taylor.

I can’t help it, though. His hair is perfect mussed. His jeans are riding low on his hips. And his T-shirt is taut across his chest. I know what he looks like without one on and the image flashes through my mind. I can feel the heat creep up in my cheeks.

There’s no denying how sexy Eli is. Even if I wanted to.

“Um, my house.” The words come out strangled as I attempt to look anywhere but at him.

“Isn’t this your house?” he asks, spreading his arms wide.

“Not exactly.”

That’s the only explanation I give before turning and heading back toward the kitchen, continuing through the sliding doors to the back yard, and not stopping until I’m in the living room of the pool house. My house. Luckily, Eli follows me.

“This is where you live?”

When I nod in response, Eli’s smile brightens as he turns his back to me, giving me a chance to study him inconspicuously. From his broad shoulders to the taper of his waist, my eyes blaze a trail I wish they wouldn’t. Especially when they land on his perfect ass. My mind pleads with me to find a flaw. Anything that will make him undesirable. If the constant fluttering in my stomach is any indication, my brain is not going to cooperate.

This is staying away from him? You need to rethink your strategy.