Page 12 of He Has Pluck

“Here she comes.” Tony elbows me like a school kid in the cafeteria. I suppose neither of us are that far removed from high school. I’m only twenty-one, and he’s twenty-two.

I glance at Juliette—because that’s who she is when she works, her genuine best self, no defenses, no vulnerability, pure professional concentration—and she aims her camera straight at me. I look away and shove another dinner roll in my mouth. That doesn’t stop her from crowding my space a second later with the ubiquitous camera looming like a mask covering her face.

Maybe she doesn’t realize people can—or at least I can—see who she is behind the camera.

“Don’t go quiet on my account,” she says.

“We were just talking about how killer you look in that dress,” Tony says.

I shove my elbow in his ribs. “We were eating, not talking,” I say as I finish chewing the roll. “We’re starving after that practice.” A flood of servers with food-filled trays converge on the dozen or so tables in the room, and I swipe the napkin across my mouth in case of drool.

“I’ll bet you didn’t know hockey players burn six-thousand calories a day on average,” Tony G says.

I keep my eyes on the platters being served, but I can see in my peripheral vision that she keeps her camera on me as if she’s expecting me to break out into a dance or some fucking thing.

“Is that right?” she murmurs as she backs away to give the servers room to work. “That explains the sensation I have of being surrounded by a pack of jackals.”

Finn snorts. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, lady.”

“What do you have to say, new guy?” There’s a definite taunt in her voice as I stab a beef tip with my fork, still ignoring her. “Don’t tell me you’re a quiet one because this isn’t supposed to be a silent movie.”

Fuck. I know she’s right, and I need to cooperate or get into some kind of trouble.

“I’d say stand clear so you don’t get hit by the chewed bones.” I keep my attention on my food, pick up a rib and give it a wave to prove my point.

Finn and Tony laugh. Rafe suppresses a grin.

“Honestly,” Rafe says, “This probably isn’t the best time to talk.”

“Thank you, Mr. Obvious,” she says and disappears from my peripheral vision as I stifle a chuckle.

* * *

At the end of dinner I have a full stomach, and as the guys are calling it a day, I manage to make that phone call about the small apartment rental. Turns out it wasn’t an apartment. It was a room in a house in Chelsea, but it has a kitchenette and it’s cheap. I can rent it week-to-week, so I take it. The last of us are filing out of the dining area, and I notice Juliette packing up her camera in the hallway leading to the offices. I break away from the guys, telling them goodnight.

“See you bright and early,” Finn says.

I give him a nod as he walks away then head down the hall towards Juliette because I feel like I owe her something. She’s trying to do her job, and I haven’t been helping. It’s not her fault that I’ve been put in the spotlight against my will.

Besides, I need to man up and make good on my claim that I can handle whatever I need to handle. I approach her, and she looks up. Her face stuns me, momentarily unmarred by any attitude or defensiveness of any kind. Not quite vulnerable, but genuine. And fucking breathtaking.

“What’s up, new guy?” she says, arching one eyebrow. “You’re pretty brave coming over now that my camera is all packed up.”

I snort a laugh. “Touché. I deserve that. Maybe… I don’t know.” I run a hand through my hair. I have no idea what to give the camera, what they need from me for this film. “I have no idea what this film is supposed to be about or what I’m supposed to do besides be myself.”

She stands, pulls on a jacket and hefts the camera bag’s strap over her shoulder. “That’s all you’re supposed to do. Don’t worry. We’ll get some drama.” She almost smiles. “Maybe I’ve been trying to force it, and I need to be more patient.”

“Wow, I think that was a confession, an actual admission from the ice chip herself.” Her scowl appears in an instant, and I laugh.

“Did you just call me an ice chip?”

Shit. I heave a sigh. “Yeah, I did. Icy eyes and a chip on your shoulder. Ice chip.” I shrug, “It suits you.” There’s a beat of silence followed by an unexpected response.

She laughs, a real amused laugh like I’m a comedian.

“I like it,” she says. “It does suit me, and I’m glad you got the message.” She pushes past me and starts heading for the exit. The others have all disappeared. The only people left are a few servers in the kitchen and the chef.

“Hey, have you even eaten?” It’s late, and she looks as beat as I feel. A new kind of lust-free pull towards her wells up. One glimpse at her less serious self, even as prickly as it still is, and I forget all about the fact that she’s an unwanted distraction.