Kissed Blind (Hot Pursuit #2)(19)
The coffee maker they had was a few grades nicer than Gabe’s, but it didn’t involve a whole lot of guess work. Lift the lid, insert cup, close the lid, and press the blinking start button. A child could have done it.
Cici walked over. “Here, why don’t I take care of that?” She took the K-cup from Camille’s hand and brewed the coffee. “I’ll bring it to you.”
Camille had walked away as soon as Cici had relieved her of the K-cup, flipping her flaxen locks over her shoulder and swaying her narrow hips as she went. She’d known how the scene was going to play out before it began. “Vanilla almond milk and two packets of Stevia,” she added, not bothering to look at Cici.
Cici had the coffee ready in less than two minutes. Camille had curled her legs up into the black leather chair while she thumbed through her phone, snickering over something that popped up on her screen. Cici placed the cup of coffee on the table next to her. She gave the cup a quick glance. “I changed my mind. Would you be a dear and make me a chai tea?”
Cici’s mouth fell open before she smiled. “Of course. It’ll be just a second.”
“Not so much milk this time, I couldn’t taste the tea the last time you made it.” Her phone made a dinging noise in her hand and a moment later she gasped. “Oli! We’re big news again. Look at us, darling!” She held her phone up to him. She’d come across one of the several images I’d already seen on the morning news.
Oliver took the phone from her hand and inspected the image before returning the phone to her. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity, right?” Camille focused her attention on her phone while Oliver looked over at me and Vance. “How’re you two feeling this morning?”
I patted my cheek. “I’ve taken worse from this guy during a workout. I’m fine.” I poked a thumb in Vance’s direction.
Vance ran a hand over his shirt. “Thanks to her, I’m good, a little sore, but it won’t slow me down.”
“You guys looked great out there. Hopefully that’ll be the end of the nut jobs we encounter while I’m here.”
“I hope so too,” I said with a nod.
Oliver gathered a stack of papers, stuffed them in a satchel, and threw it over his shoulder, wincing as he did. He rubbed a hand over his stomach.
“Everything all right, darling?” Camille asked, eyes barely leaving her screen.
“I’m fine. My stomach is acting up a little,” Oliver answered.
“Oh! You know what?” She reached into her purse and pulled something out. “Take these with some water.” She held out her hand and placed something into Oliver’s palm.
Oliver inspected two capsules. “What’re these?”
“Something my herbalist gave me back home. She said they’ll work wonders.”
“That was sweet of you to bring these all the way here.” He bent down, tipped her chin up, and gave her a long kiss on the lips. “Thanks.”
Her cheeks held a new radiant glow. “Anything for my Oli.”
We left Camille behind sipping a fresh brewed chai tea and drove to the location Cici had written down.
We arrived at a warehouse-type building on the outskirts of town in an industrial area. I expected something more glamourous and not so “off the beaten path.” With as isolated as it was though, droves of fans waited behind a black and white saw horse screaming Oliver’s name.
A few members of the crew lingered outside of the building, catching a smoke break—two frumpy women and a middle-aged man who hadn’t shaved in months to grow the ridiculous curled handlebar mustache he sported.
Oliver gave a nod of acknowledgement to the smokers, and each muttered a hello with a slight air of irritation. His face, I guessed, meant work had arrived. They smashed their cigarettes against the side of the building and pulled open the door.
We followed them inside, and I blinked rapidly trying to take it all in. Mobs of people moved about swirling and swelling like busy bees in a hive. Cameras were everywhere and towering lights stood tall, flickering off and on as someone shouted directions. Who would have known all this was going on inside this nothing of a building?
A woman with pencils sticking out of a messy blonde bun approached us. “Oliver! You’re late.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. She had a smooth British accent I could have listened to for days. “Christ, I’ve been calling your phone for an hour already. Martin is pissed. Hair and makeup have been waiting.”
“Diana, Vance, this is Cadence, the set director. Cadence, these two are my security staff, Diana and Vance,” he said ignoring the urgency in her tone.
“Yeah, great, nice to meet you.” She faked her interest, barely holding her impatience at bay while Vance and I said our hellos. She tapped an imaginary watch on her wrist.
He held up his hands, nodding, finally acknowledging her doggedness. He reached for my arm. “Hey, why don’t you keep me company while they do what they have to do to me? We’re shooting a scene today where I’m supposed to have just been in an explosion. They need to give me some bloody wounds.” Vance stood back, close to Cici, and Oliver glanced at them. “Cici, why don’t you take Vance around and show him the set? I shouldn’t need anything for a while. I’m going to be stuck in a chair, facing up, and staring at paintbrushes and latex.”