The Producer's Unlikely Bride Read online

  “But I can go get more,” he continued, “there’s a town not too far from here.”

  “That would be a good idea as I only brought enough for myself. I wasn’t planning on feeding Hollywood’s elite.” Ugh, what was it about him that brought out the worst in her? She wasn’t generally so snarky.

  Justin chuckled. “I’m certainly no Hollywood elite. So, what do we do? Shake on it?”

  “Works for me.” Ava stuck out her hand and he took it. She was rather surprised not to feel utter revulsion at his touch since everything else about him bugged her immensely.

  “Right, well, I’ll get out of your hair and go buy more groceries.” He stood and shifted from one foot to the other. Was he nervous? It was the first chink she had seen in his cocky demeanor. “You’ll have to free up a shelf for me though.” And the chink was gone.

  He tossed the comment at her as he walked out the door, so there was no chance for her to respond. Probably a good thing anyway. She doubted her response would have been very Christian. With a shake of her head, she stood and walked to her room to retrieve her laptop.

  Once back in the main room, she settled into the comfy chair and opened her laptop. The cursor blinked at her expectantly. How she hated that cursed cursor lately. She placed her fingers on the keys willing the words to come, but still no creativity flowed. Instead all she saw was Justin’s perfect hair, his haughty eyes, and his cocky smile. Oh great, now not only was he a distraction, but he was invading her thoughts as well.

  But perhaps she could use that to her advantage. Maybe she could write her frustrations with him into her novel. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Yes, there was the story, tugging slightly at the back of her mind. She coaxed it forward, promising it grandeur if it would come into the light, and it did.

  A small smile graced her lips as her fingers began flying across the keys. Only twice did she look up, once to admire the ocean and once when the door opened and Justin slipped back inside.

  Chapter 5

  Justin listened to the clacking keys of her computer and wondered what she was writing. It must be something interesting because other than the brief glance she gave him when he stepped through the front door with his food, she hadn’t stopped. She just kept tapping away.

  He opened the freezer and shoved his tv dinners in. Not his normal fare, but the food had been limited at the tiny store and he hadn’t cooked for himself in months, so he’d been hesitant to buy a ton of fresh food that he’d probably butcher without a recipe. At least with these, he wouldn’t go hungry. He had picked up hamburger meat though. Although he wasn’t sure a grill existed at the cottage, he could make a mean hamburger in a skillet if necessary.

  Maybe she wasn’t writing anything at all. Perhaps it was all a show and she simply typed random letters to appear busy. That would be some dedication to a ruse though. You could only type nonsense for so long before boredom killed you. Besides, she had looked focused.

  Her long dark hair had been pulled back in a loose ponytail, and her eyes caught his with a look of surprise - almost as if she had been so into her writing she hadn’t heard him arrive. Was he ever that focused on anything? He supposed he had been that focused on the show once back when he and Peter were just planning it. Back when Carol had been alive and challenging him to be the best he could be.

  Justin shook his head as he shut the fridge door and turned to the cupboard. He would not think about Carol or Candy or any of the other women from his past. His job here was to clear his mind of negative thoughts and either refocus on the show or cut his ties once and for all.

  The clacking stopped and he froze, his hand extended into the cupboard. Had she stopped? Why? He let go of the can of green beans and checked his watch. It was nearly four, so she must have decided to take a break. He wondered if she would leave her laptop out. Curiosity coursed through his veins. He supposed he could just ask her, but then she would know he was curious, and he didn’t need that. She might confuse his curiosity for interest and it certainly wasn’t that.

  The front door opened and closed. She had gone outside. He finished putting the cans away and stepped back into the main room, his eyes tearing eagerly toward the corner where she had been sitting, but her computer was gone. He hadn’t heard her walk past so had she taken it outside then?

  Drawn by a force he couldn’t name or understand, Justin crossed to the place she had vacated and sat down. A sweet scent of flowers hung in the air. Her perfume? Shampoo? He understood why she chose this spot. The chair not only molded to his frame, but the window looked out on the ocean.

  As he watched, she came into view. The breeze lifted strands of her hair blowing them to the side like brushstrokes on a painting. Her face tilted up as if she were soaking up the sun, and then she walked out of view. A part of him wanted to get up from the chair, to press his face to the window and watch where she walked, but he would not do that. Ava might be intriguing, but she was still a woman. And he had terrible luck with women.

  Ava returned to the cottage when her watch read six. She enjoyed walking the beach and not thinking for a few hours. There was something refreshing in just letting go, but now her stomach yearned for some food and her fingers itched to add a little more to her story even if she had to do it in the small bedroom.

  She opened the cottage door surprised to find Justin asleep in the cushy chair. He actually looked human and vulnerable passed out with his mouth slightly open. Too bad he was so cocky when he was awake. She wondered what made him that way. Was it working in television? Had he grown up that way?

  Ava shook her head as she walked past him to the kitchen. She was dissecting him like he was a character in her book, although she guessed in a way he was though she doubted the past she had given her character matched his past. It might be interesting to find out though. She loved writing about people she knew as it always seemed to bring her characters to life. It was even more fun to write about people she saw and imagine their back stories. It annoyed her friends though and they chastised her whenever they caught her staring at people.

  She couldn’t help it though as she’d been a people watcher from a very young age. Her mother often dragged her older brother and sister and her along on shopping trips. Whenever they ventured to the mall, her mother would buy them two soft pretzels to share, and they would sit on a bench and observe people as they walked by. Her mother would lean over after someone passed and make up a story for them. “See that guy with a limp? He was teaching his daughter to drive, and she accidentally put the car in reverse and drove over his foot. They raced to the hospital, but while they were waiting to be seen, an old woman who was half blind didn’t see him as she passed and she stabbed his foot with her cane. By the time he saw a doctor, he lost all feeling in three of his five toes, and it never came back.” And that was how it began.

  After that, Ava observed everyone wherever she went. She watched their mannerisms and their clothing choices, committing them to memory. When she took a creative writing course in high school, she learned that she had been practicing characterization without even knowing it. Her papers always came back with glowing words about how her characters felt alive and real.

  Ava opened the fridge and pulled out a cucumber, olives, onions, and chicken. She wanted something fresh and healthy tonight after her walk on the beach and her mother’s Greek Chicken recipe sounded like just the thing.

  Justin wandered in as she was cutting up the cucumber. “What is that smell?” His eyes darted around as if looking for the source.

  “It’s balsamic vinegar and chicken. My mother’s Greek Chicken recipe.” She dumped the cucumber in the bowl with the already sliced Kalamata olives and red onions. Then she turned her attention to the garlic cloves.

  “It smells delicious. Greek, huh? Is that your background?”

  She began dicing the garlic. “Part. My mother is Greek. My father is Scottish hence the last name McDermott.” With a sweep of her hand, she added the garlic to th
e bowl and checked on the chicken on the stove. It was better when it simmered in a crock pot all day, but as she hadn’t thought to start it earlier, she hoped the extra balsamic vinegar would help tenderize the chicken.

  “What about you?” she asked as she turned off the stove and retrieved a plate to slice the chicken. “What’s your background?”

  He looked up from the bowl she had placed her ingredients in. “Uh English. I’m not sure what else.” His attention was still fixated on her food. She wondered if he cooked and what he bought for himself at the store.

  “Really? You’ve never been curious? Did you never do one of those family tree things in school?” The chicken looked perfect as her knife sliced through it. Tender and moist. She added the sliced chicken to the bowl and stirred it up with a wooden spoon.

  “If I did, I’ve forgotten about it. I wasn’t what you’d call a model student.”

  Ava glanced up at him. That hardly came as a surprise. She certainly wouldn’t have pegged him for one, but that seemed rude to say. “Well, you should some time. It’s nice to know your history.” She scooped her chicken mixture into a bowl and grabbed a fork from the drawer.

  “I don’t know why. It’s not like I use it as a producer or host.” His gaze remained locked on the bowl of food.

  “It’s not about using it. It’s just about having the knowledge. Knowledge is power you know.”

  He looked up from the bowl. “Money is power.”

  Ava shook her head as she picked up her bowl and headed to the table. As she sat, she heard the freezer door open. A glance over her shoulder revealed him pulling out a cardboard box. Frozen dinners? That was what he had bought? With a sigh, she shook her head and turned to him. “Don’t heat that up. Get yourself a bowl and have some real food.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, but do it quickly before I change my mind.”

  Justin wasted no time in grabbing a bowl and sitting across from her. The smell alone sent him salivating ten minutes ago. He picked up his fork to dig in but Ava interrupted him with her question.

  “Frozen dinners?”

  He shrugged. “The show I work on caters meals every day. I haven’t cooked for myself in months. Besides the store was really small.”

  Ava chuckled and bowed her head, and Justin knew she was about to pray over her food.

  A vice seized his heart, and he forced his eyes to his bowl. He should have known he would get stuck with a believer, and just when he thought Ava might be worth getting to know. He would have to be even more careful about keeping his distance from now on. That was a hole he didn’t want to get sucked into again.

  “You don’t pray?” she asked when she opened her eyes.

  “Not anymore. I put my faith in God a long time ago, and He proved He didn’t care.” Justin dug the fork into the dish and shoveled a mouthful in.

  Ava’s forehead wrinkled as she picked up her fork. “I know it feels that way sometimes, but God is always with us.”

  Justin finished chewing his bite and stared evenly at Ava. “Not when He lets my wife die.”

  Her mouth dropped open, but he could tell she had no words to say to that. No one ever did. At least not words that mattered. “Thank you for the food, but I think I’ll finish it in my room.” He stood and carried his plate down the hall. Justin had come here trying to get away from these memories, not dig them up and open old wounds. He wondered, not for the first time, if that would ever be possible.

  Ava shut her Bible with a sigh. She had tried blocking out the noise for the last ten minutes, but the words kept bouncing around the page. They had said nothing about quiet time in the evenings, but she would have to tell him to turn the music down. Why on earth did he need it that loud anyway? And why didn’t he have headphones?

  She grabbed the robe off the end of the bed and shrugged it on. It had been an afterthought to pack it, but now she was glad she had. Her short shorts and tank top revealed too much skin to wear around Justin even though he didn’t seem interested in her in the least which she found fine because he was not her type either. This loud blaring rock music emphasized just one of the many differences between them.

  Ava knocked lightly at his door and then curled her hand into a fist and pounded when he didn’t open up. The music stopped, and the door swung open. Justin wore a tank top himself and a pair of cargo shorts. The casual appearance shocked her for a second, but she should have expected it. No one stayed in slacks and a button-down shirt all day, did they?

  “Yes?”

  The way his eyes roamed over her sent a heat crawling up her neck, and Ava pulled the robe tighter. “I was hoping you could turn your music down. I’m trying to do my devotional and I can’t concentrate with all the screaming going on.”

  “It’s not screaming. It’s heavy metal, and it helps me relax.”

  He moved to shut the door in her face and she shoved her foot out to keep it from closing. “Okay, fair enough, but can you at least turn it down? Or use headphones? I have a pair in my room if you need to borrow some.”

  Justin sighed and rolled his eyes. “I have my own. I’ll use them so you can get back to your fairy tales.”

  “They’re not-” But she didn’t get to finish the statement as Justin muscled her foot out of the doorway and shut the door in her face. “You could use some fairy tales,” she hissed under her breath as she turned back to her room. He was infuriating and obnoxious, and she tried to cut him slack due to the bomb he had dropped at dinner, but he wasn’t making it easy.

  At least he kept the music lower. Ava climbed back on the bed and opened her Bible again, but the words still swam over the page. This time it wasn’t due to his music but her conscience. With a sigh, she closed the book and then closed her eyes. It was obvious Justin could use prayer and she could use patience dealing with him.

  Chapter 6

  Justin woke early as he did every morning. The filming schedule didn’t always call for an early morning wake up but it did more often than not, and his body had gotten used to it. Besides, early morning was always a good time for a run. The sun’s rays dispelled less heat then, and fewer people roamed the streets. Of course he didn’t have to worry about people out this morning. Other than Ava, the beach seemed deserted, and he’d heard no sound from her room.

  He pulled on his shoes and opened his door. A stillness filled the house. Yep, she was definitely still sleeping. For the briefest of moments, he wondered what she looked like when she slept. Did she sleep on the right or left side? Did her hair splay across her pillow?

  Justin shook his head to clear the thoughts and inserted the earbuds. Thoughts of Ava had no place in his head. In fact, no woman had a place in his thoughts. He was done with women, and as soon as he found another job outside the dating show, that would be a lot easier.

  He pulled open the front door and exited the cottage. This was his favorite time of day, when the sky was still dark and the sun just peeked over the horizon. As he ran, he felt the stress leave his shoulders. Too bad he couldn’t get paid to run.

  When the sun was fully awake and sweat drenched his shirt, he headed back to the cottage. He would shower and get some breakfast. Then he could spend some time searching out new jobs.

  He was surprised to find the cottage still dark when he returned. It was nearly eight a.m. and she had claimed she worked best in the morning. Justin wondered what her definition of morning was. He’d always been an early riser even in his teenage years. When his friends slept in until noon on the weekends, he would be up at seven working out or writing screen plays. His mother had often joked that he must have been a farmer in a previous life because his internal alarm clock seemed to follow the sun. Justin didn’t think he would like farm work, but he didn’t mind being awake when the rest of the world slept.

  Her door was still closed when he got out of the shower and neither the smell of coffee nor the eggs and bacon he cooked seemed to rouse her either. He wondered briefly if he should check to make
sure she was still alive, but he was enjoying the quiet. Besides, she would probably take that as another intrusion, and he could use the peace to do some research.

  Ava woke to the sun filtering in her windows. She yawned and stretched. Another long day of writing loomed ahead of her, but at least Justin provided her with plenty of character fodder.

  She was still processing the bombshell he’d dropped last night. Death was hard to process even for Christians, but she wondered if his antipathy towards God was just about his wife’s death or if there was more to it? Still, she couldn’t believe people could look at the world around them and not see God’s hand in it all.

  After dressing, she grabbed the stack of papers she had made notes on last night. Sometimes her mind worked best with her fingers on the keys, and sometimes it took holding a pen to make the words flow.

  Justin sat at the kitchen table when she entered. His laptop took up the majority of the small table leaving Ava with little room.

  “You know there are other places you could put your computer so that others could eat breakfast.” She opened the fridge and pulled out two eggs and the package of bacon.

  “You overslept.” His eyes didn’t waver from the screen, not even a glance her direction. “It’s nine thirty which I’m fairly certain qualifies as morning time. Your best writing time which means you should be in the main room. That makes the kitchen available right now.”

  “But I haven’t eaten yet.” Ava tried to keep the frustration from her voice as she pulled out a skillet and placed two strips of bacon on.

  “That’s not my problem. You’re the one who set the schedule and picked the times if I remember correctly.”

  He had her there, but Ava wasn’t used to such a rigid schedule. Her book had deadlines, but how she got there never followed a strict guideline. She wrote when she felt like it, when the words came. “I did, but that was really more a suggestion of when my best writing time usually is.”