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Londyn carried the plate of crispy bacon and sat opposite the man who’d haunted her sleeping and waking dreams, keeping her head down and her gaze on the food.
Knowing she didn’t have much time to get to the movie set, Londyn ate in silence, finishing quickly. She carried her plate to the sink, washed it and dried it.
When Nash brought his plate, she held out her hand.
He shook his head. “I can take care of my plate. You should go change.”
Londyn hurried away from him and snagged the sweatpants from the back of the sofa where she’d left them. She passed through the bedroom into the bathroom, closed the door and leaned against it. From where she stood, she looked directly into the mirror over the sink, barely recognizing the woman in the reflection.
Her cheeks were a ruddy red beneath the darkness of her skin. She touched her fingers to her lips, which were still a little swollen from last night’s kiss. The long, thick hair Nash had so painstakingly brushed was once again tangled and mussed.
However, it was her eyes that stood out. She stared at herself with a confusing combination of fear, anticipation and desire.
Never in her life had she been so disconcerted by a man as she was with Nash. Her instant attraction to him and the rush of desire she’d experienced before, during and after that kiss had thrown her into a spin.
If she wanted to regain control over her life and her emotions, her best course of action would be to avoid Nash altogether.
She ran her hand over the sweatpants, which were slightly worn but super soft. Londyn stepped into them, pulled them up over her hips and cinched them tighter to keep them from falling off. Used to wearing blue jeans, the sweatpants felt too light, more like pajamas than something she should wear to work.
But what choice did she have until her clothes arrived with Hank and Sadie? Hopefully, the costume designers had already completed work on replacement costumes for the ones lost in the explosion. At least the costumes designed for the movie were decent and not something wild and over the top. She might be able to wear them back to the cabin after filming was completed for the day.
Until then, she was glad to have clean clothes to wear to the set.
Londyn tried to finger comb her hair again and gave up. She needed to make a list of items she’d need from the ranch. Besides clothing, a brush would be at the top of the list.
She pulled on her boots, which looked funny with the sweatpants, and left the bathroom.
Nash stood in the living room, looking fresh and gorgeous, his hair damp and neatly combed back. “Ready?”
She nodded and grabbed the copy of the movie script from the counter. “The sooner we leave, the better. I want to be there a little earlier than usual to coordinate with the makeup, hair and the costume folks. Director Haynes doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Nash nodded. “If you have everything you need, we can go.”
Her lips curled. “I need a lot of things, but none of them are here.”
He dipped his head. “Right. But that will soon change.”
“I hope so,” she said. “Thanks for the loan of some of your clothes.”
“You’re welcome,” Nash said. “I only wish I had something that fit you a little better.”
“I’m grateful for anything at this point,” Londyn headed for the door. “I’m ready.”
Nash opened it for her and waited for her to pass through before following her out onto the porch. He descended the stairs and led the way to his truck, opening the passenger door for her.
She cocked an eyebrow. “For your information, I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors.”
“I have no doubt.” Yet, he stood firm and waited for her to climb up into the truck. “For your information, so were all the women in my family. But I was taught to open doors for ladies and the elderly. It’s a hard habit to break, not that I want to break it. I hope it doesn’t offend you.”
As she settled in the passenger seat, she frowned for a moment and then shrugged. “No. I’m not offended. And perhaps the correct response to someone opening a door for me is thank you. I’ve been out on the ranch for so long that I forget the rules of polite society. So, in the name of good manners, thank you.”
He grinned. “You’re welcome.” He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s seat. Once he was settled behind the wheel, he buckled his seatbelt and started the engine.
“Do you want to listen to music?” he asked.
She shook her head and opened the script. “I want to read through my lines. I have a scene with Craig today. He gets annoyed if I forget my lines.”
“No problem,” Nash said.
