Rugged(37)

“Remind me to get you married to Flint so we can do this all the time,” she says, and bustles away. Meanwhile, I stand there frozen in shock and horror. I know the whole me marrying Flint thing was a joke, but part of me panics. Does she know what she’s saying? Did Flint tell her? Is it obvious? Or does she have no idea?

“Hey!” Jerri yells, walking over to me and clapping her hands together. “Are we getting started on this or what?”

Right. Put away your crazed libido, Laurel. It’s magic time. I head over to where Jerri and Raj are bookending Flint. He’s standing over a table, a blueprint spread on top. Holding it in place to keep the wind from snatching it away, he studies it intently.

“So you want me to make construction sexy.” He looks at Jerri like he can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. Raj groans, very dramatic, and throws up his hands.

“It’s all about your personality. Look at the camera like you want to take it on a wild night on the town and then screw it in the back of your truck. Make the women of America melt,” Raj says, gesticulating wildly. Is he humping the air?

“I am not going to f*ck the camera,” Flint says, in a voice of such righteous indignation I have to force myself not to snort.

“Just keep yourself relaxed and loose,” I say, finally shoving Raj aside. My assistant groans and pops some nicotine gum. “This is about combining your magnetic personality with basic construction. Just be yourself.”

“My magnetic personality?” he deadpans. He’s got a point. Flint is the stoic, iron-jawed man of the woods. Flirtatious sexpot, not so much. That’s only when he knows you better, when he finally lets his guard down…

Stop thinking words, Laurel.

“You know your way around a blueprint. Show us how it’s done,” I say, touching his arm. It’s one of those friendly, ‘I got you, buddy’ touches, but he jerks like I took a bite out of him. I snatch my hand away. Oh, damn. Don’t touch the talent when you’ve already slept together. “Sorry,” I mumble, glancing around to see if anyone noticed.

“It’s fine,” Flint says, turning back to study his blueprint. My face heating up, I make a graceful exit. Well, semi-graceful. I didn’t mean to trip on my damn shoelaces. Shit happens. Whatever, no one saw.

“You okay?” Raj asks, keeping his voice low as he comes up behind me.

“Of course I am!” I chirp, sounding completely unhinged. “Why do you ask?”

Raj eyes me, his gaze calculating, chewing his gum slowly. “You know my secret power, Laurel.”

My stomach plummets straight to the ground as the memories come rushing back. How could I have forgotten?

When I’d worked with my old boss, Brian Sanderson, on the set of Millionaires in Paradise, Raj had been an assistant to one of the other producers. Raj and I were gossiping over the craft service table one day when he revealed that he had a sixth sense for knowing which crew members were sleeping together. In fact, he had even warned me about the sexual tension between my former boss and Mirabelle, the young trophy wife of one of our show’s stars. At the time, I laughed it off. Fast forward half a season later and Sanderson and Mirabelle have eloped, which is why I’m here now producing my own show. With Raj. Who knows something is up with me and Flint. Crap.

“You need to keep it together, Laurel,” Raj says. “I know he’s sexier than the Brawny paper towel man, but this show is your big break. I’d hate to see you mess this up.” There’s genuine concern written all across his face, and this troubles me most of all. But before I can reply, the director’s voice rips through the bracing morning air.

“All right!” Jerri says, stepping back as the cameras come forward. The lights and the boom mic are on. Flint’s construction crew waits to the side, watching with interest. Meanwhile, he stares at the camera like it just told him it’s pregnant and he has to do right by his new family. Flint never really did get comfortable with the show side of show business. “You ready to go, McKay?” Jerri asks, though from her it comes out more like a command.

“Yes,” Flint says, his voice tight.

“Then let’s roll sound! And…action.” Jerri and the rest of us sit back, watch, and wait. Flint clears his throat, opens the blueprints on the table, and points.

“See this?” he says, never taking his eyes from the camera. He pauses, swallows. “This is a house.”

Oh God, no. By the craft table, Callie looks over at me. She’s got a steaming cup of coffee in hand, and she’s shaking her head. I turn back to Flint as the madness unfolds. He adopts the world’s most rigid mountain man pose, hands square on hips, and continues.

“This house has a foundation. As most houses do. When they are built by people who build houses.” This is the Challenger explosion of first takes. Flint keeps fumbling for words, his eyes getting wider as he stares directly into the camera. “We, er, start with leveling out the base. Leveling. That’s a word everyone understands, right?” No one knows how to stop this. It’s too awkward. “Level. That means to, ah, make smooth. If your house isn’t on a level foundation, the whole thing’s tilted. And then you could go over a cliff.” He pauses once more, his jaw clenching so tight it’s probably going to snap in half. “But don’t worry. I won’t let you plummet to your death.”