Unwritten (A Beachwood Bay Love Story Book 11) Read online

To him, I was still just the kid he’d found on a bad day, a younger sister type he helped out because that’s what you do. But to me, he was my hero.

  The only boy I ever wanted.

  Tegan had her crush too, on one of her brother’s bandmates, but while she would talk for hours about Connor, I never said a word. I couldn’t. Tegan was already sensitive enough about girls being friends with her just because of her hot brothers; and although I had no clue she was related to Blake for the first months of our friendship, it felt like a betrayal to be sitting at the dinner table next to her, sneaking secret looks at Blake across the room.

  I couldn’t risk our friendship, not when Blake didn’t realize I existed.

  So I kept my crush a secret, all these years. Sure, I’ve dated other boys, and once I moved to Paris, I made it my mission to learn as much about men as possible. I knew that I was way behind the curve.

  “A lovesick puppydog…”

  I shake off the painful memory and turn my attention to the night ahead. As much as I want to break out a stunning dress and knock Blake dead, I know the bar in town here is as casual as they come. I pick out a simple black sweater-dress and belt it around my waist, then pull on my leather boots and fix my hair in tousled waves. I can’t resist adding a thin line of black eyeliner, flicked out at the edges in a cool cat’s-eye. It took me three sessions with the girls in the makeup department at the magazine to master the look, but now I’ve got it down.

  I check my reflection, my pulse already kicking with nerves. I look cool, polished, casual, yet sophisticated. Exactly the image I’ve worked so hard to create.

  I smile, remembering the clueless, gawky girl who arrived in Paris with a bag full of sweatshirts and a broken heart. Talk about getting thrown in the deep end! By the end of my first day in the city, I felt like a fashion failure; by the end of my first week, I was determined to leave the old Zoey Barnes behind and transform myself into someone new.

  No, not new, I remind myself, grabbing my purse and heading for the door. Me. The girl I’d always felt I could be, just I’d never seen her staring back at me in the mirror before. Everything I did in Paris was about making those two versions of myself match up: finally feeling like the world could see me the way I’d always seen myself.

  And now it’s time for Blake to see me this way too.

  It’s not far, so I walk over to Jimmy’s. It’s a great little dive bar in the middle of Beachwood Bay, just across the street from the harbor. I’ve been here before with Tegan, and now I step inside the front doors and look around. It’s busy tonight, every table full with movie people and regulars from town: playing pool, kicking back with a beer, and enjoying one of the owner, Garrett’s, famous burgers.

  I scan the crowd, already feeling jittery with nerves. I see several familiar faces from set, and then spot Blake over at the bar. He’s wearing old jeans that fit him like a glove and a faded blue T-shirt that makes his tan glow golden even in the dim light.

  My stomach flutters.

  I catch his eye and wave, heading over. “Sorry I’m late.” I greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “I was cataloguing six boxes of fake sand for tomorrow’s shoot.”

  Blake looks confused. “Isn’t there plenty on the beach?”

  “Sure, regular, ordinary sand,” I tease. “But this is perfect golden stuff, for you guys to roll around in during a passionate kiss.”

  “Well, when you put it like that, how could we get by with the real deal?” Blake grins.

  There’s a pause, and my nerves hit me again. It’s weird, I’ve spent years of my life hanging out around Blake, but it’s like our New Year’s kiss wiped the slate clean. Now, I feel like I barely know him at all. At least, not like this: on a date, together. Alone.

  “Here you go.” Garrett appears, setting half a dozen bottles of beer in front of us. “Hey, Zoey.” He smiles, recognizing me. “All these for you?”

  I laugh. “I can hold my own, but we’ve got work tomorrow.”

  Blake grins. “Ha, no, these are for the others. We’re over in the corner,” he says, nodding across the room. “Put whatever you want on my tab, then come join us. It’s a fun crowd.”

  What?

  Blake gives me an easy smile, picks up the tray and heads over to the booth—where I can see our director, Dash, and a couple of other people from the movie sitting around, talking together. Blake slides in, cracking some kind of joke, and they all laugh.

  My heart falls. I don’t understand.

  I watch Blake, frantically thinking back to this afternoon. Want to grab a drink tonight? he asked. Isn’t that universal code for a date? I thought it would be just the two of us, cloistered in a dark romantic corner somewhere together, not joining a whole gang, kicking back after work. Co-workers. Buddies.

  Friends.

  I turn back to the bar and slump down with a groan.

  Way to misread the signs, Zoey.

  “That sounds like a two-shot kind of problem.”

  I look up. Garrett is back. He sets up a shot glass and pours me a measure of bourbon. I manage a smile. I know him through Tegan: her fiancé is brothers with Garrett’s wife’s sister, or something like that. Everyone’s connected somehow in a small town like this. Either way, I’m glad to see a familiar face—especially one offering alcohol in a time of need.

  “I think we’re way past booze,” I sigh theatrically, but I knock back the drink all the same.

  Garrett laughs. “Talk to me when you’ve barely slept in two days because of a crying newborn.”

  I can see the shadows around his eyes. “That’s right,” I remember. “How are Carina and little Sawyer?”

  “They’re doing great.” Garrett beams with pride. “But man, I can’t wait for that kid to sleep through the night.”

  I laugh, “Give him a couple more months.”

  “I hope.” Garrett glances at my empty glass. “Booze didn’t do the trick? How about a double burger and fries?” He ups the ante.

  “With extra fries on the side,” I agree.

  He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Coming right up.”

  He disappears into the back, but I stay sitting at the bar a moment longer. I feel like such a fool! Of course it wouldn’t be so easy. Despite our kiss on New Year’s, Blake hasn’t said or done a single thing to make me think he’s interested in me like that—yet. Maybe I’m just kidding myself, trying to kick-start a crush that’s better left forgotten.

  And maybe this is the universe telling me it’s not worth the risk.

  I swivel back around on my stool, and catch Blake staring at my legs.

  Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t count myself out just yet…

  I take my drink and walk across the room, taking my time when I feel Blake’s eyes on me again. “Hey,” I greet the table with a smile. “Room for one more?”

  Blake gets up, and quickly pulls another chair over, beside Dash. “Thanks,” I smile, taking a seat. “I’m Zoey, by the way,” I add, introducing myself to the others.

  Blake coughs. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. Zoey’s a friend of my kid sister,” he explains. “This is Dash, Becca, Trey and Jake,” he says, nodding around the table. I recognize our director, plus the head of lighting, and two of the supporting cast.

  “Great to meet you guys.” I try not to feel a sting at the juvenile way Blake introduced me. “How do you think the first day went?”

  “Great,” Dash nods. He’s hotter up close, with a surprisingly muscular physique. I always thought directors were geeky film school guys, but Dash is tall and broad-shouldered, with the dark ink of a tattoo creeping from under the sleeve of his old black T-shirt. “The scene went great—after Lila’s wardrobe change,” he adds with a grin.

  “I’m sorry,” I wince. “Did I screw everything up?”

  “Don’t even worry,” he laughs. “The truth is, I never liked that dress for the character. It was kind of slutty, but Lila insisted.” He rolls his dark eyes. “You have to pick your battles with her.”

/>   “Good to know.” I file it away for future reference: Lila doesn’t seem to have many fans on set. “How did she wind up getting cast?” I ask curiously. “I’ve only ever seen her in things that are more…”

  “Sexy? Action chick?” Dash finishes before me.

  “I was trying to be polite,” I giggle, “but sure. This part is quieter, really introspective and romantic. I honestly didn’t picture her when I read the script.”

  Dash gives me a rueful look. “You and me both. I had half a dozen really great actresses read, but they weren’t big enough names to get us financing. Blake here helps a lot, but to really sell this thing, we needed someone who’ll get us press, too.”

  “Lila certainly has a talent for that,” I note, thinking of all the dozens of tabloid articles about her latest rock-star fling or bikini beach vacation.

  “Hey, don’t get me wrong,” Dash adds quickly, “I think she’s a talented actress. Or, at least she would be if she stopped focusing on if her hair’s out of place, or the camera isn’t shooting her best side. We’ve just got to push through the bullshit. I’m sure she’ll warm up once we really get going.”

  “You’re right,” I agree, more because it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself than anything else. “She’ll be great in the end. And hey,” I add with a wink. “If you have any more wardrobe issues, just let me know. I’ll go take her a latte.”

  Dash laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “What are you guys whispering about?” Blake interrupts from across the table.

  I wonder if that’s a jealous spark in his eyes, so I give him a mischievous smile. “I was just telling Dash about your starring role as Scrooge,” I tease him.

  Blake groans, and Dash looks back and forth between us. “This I’ve got to hear.” He takes a gulp of beer and sits back expectantly.

  Blake shakes his head. “Nothing to hear, man. Just tales from the jobbing actor trenches.”

  “I hear you,” Dash nods. “I’ve made some cheesy wedding videos in my time to pay the bills. Not to mention getting hired for a memorial video…for some kid’s dog.”

  “Seriously?” I splutter on my drink with laughter.

  “Oh yeah,” Dash grins. “I used old home video footage and photos, set the whole thing to ‘My Heart Will Go On.’ They loved it.”

  “See?” Blake tells me. “There’s no job too small when you’re paying your dues.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I add. “I’m the one who spent an hour picking green M&Ms out of the pack.”

  “OK, you win.” Dash clinks his beer to my glass in a toast.

  We stay chatting in the corner booth for another couple of hours. Once I get over my initial disappointment at not being alone with Blake, I have a great time. It’s fun getting to know the others, and Dash is a blast, full of stories from past movies and insider Hollywood gossip. And I enjoy the time with Blake too: seeing him relaxed, unwinding after work. I realize most of the time I’ve spent with him has been at a big event, or with the rest of the Callahans. I can see there’s something different about him on his own. He’s quieter, less outgoing, content to sit back and watch the conversation, rather than be the one cracking jokes, the center of attention all the time.

  “Another round?” Dash asks.

  Blake shakes his head. “I think I’m heading out,” he says, reaching for his jacket. “I need my beauty sleep if I’m going to shoot first thing in the morning.”

  “Damn right you do,” Dash agrees. “OK, Zoey?” he asks.

  I stifle a yawn. “I better go too. Early start.”

  “Pathetic,” Dash grins. He scans the bar, before spotting a couple of women at the bar. His expression brightens. “See you guys tomorrow.”

  He heads over with a charming grin, and within seconds, he’s gesturing Garrett over to buy them a round.

  “It’s alright for him.” I smile ruefully, turning back to Blake. “He doesn’t have a five a.m. call time.”

  “Oh, Dash will be on set before anyone,” Blake promises. “I don’t know how he does it. He can run on like, an hour’s sleep. I just wind up looking like crap if I don’t get a good eight hours.”

  “And God forbid we do anything to ruin that perfect face,” I joke, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Blake laughs and ducks away.

  “Hey! What am I to you, just another piece of meat?”

  “Yes, but I’m sure you taste delicious.” I shoot back my flirty quip without thinking.

  Blake’s eyes flash darker. Suddenly, the air seems to crackle between us, like there’s nobody in the bar but us.

  I lose my breath, lost in his eyes. For a moment, we’re suspended, then Blake looks away. “Come on then,” he says gruffly, and heads for the door.

  What was that?

  I stand frozen a moment, my head spinning. It was like we were back on the balcony again, the chemistry shimmering between us.

  I didn’t imagine it, after all. There’s something still happening between us.

  Quickly, I grab my purse and hurry after him, catching up just outside the doors in the dark parking lot. My heart races as I draw level.

  “Hey, wait up.”

  Blake stops. His shoulders are hunched, he’s got his hands stuffed in his front pockets, and he’s looking anywhere but at me. “Where are you parked?”

  His voice is curt. I blink. “Um, I didn’t. I mean, I walked.”

  “Fine, I’ll walk you back then,” Blake says, but the offer has no warmth in it.

  I blink, confused. He’s shut down completely, like he can’t wait to get away from me. Whatever happened inside is as much a memory as our kiss.

  “You don’t need to babysit me,” I say, wrapping my jacket tighter against the chilly breeze. “I’ll be fine. It’s not far.”

  “C’mon, don’t be stupid. You’re at the B&B, right?”

  Without waiting for my response, he starts striding in the direction of the street. I follow, getting annoyed now. “I don’t need an escort,” I cross my arms, walking faster. “This is Beachwood Bay, what’s going to happen: some nice old lady comes along and charms me to death?”

  “I’m not letting you walk back at night, alone,” Blake growls. “I’d kill Tegan if she pulled something like this.”

  “I’m not your sister,” I snap.

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  We walk in silence, our footsteps tapping angrily on the street. The moon reflects off the ocean, the waves gently lap the shore, but it couldn’t be a less romantic midnight walk. I don’t understand it: one minute we were relaxed, kidding around in the bar, and then next, Blake is tense and pissed off, and I’m feeling pretty irritated too. What gives him the right to insist he takes me anywhere? I didn’t ask for an escort, and now he’s sulking like I forced him to walk me home.

  We’re almost back at the cottage when Blake’s voice comes out of nowhere. “Watch out for Dash.”

  I turn. “What do you mean? I thought you guys were friends.”

  “We are,” Blake says quickly, “but he likes to have fun, that’s all I’m saying. You should be careful.”

  “I can look after myself, thanks.” I roll my eyes. “And hey, maybe I like to have fun too.”

  “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “And I’m a big girl now,” I drawl. “In case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I noticed.”

  Blake’s voice is low. I feel a shiver, and glance over. He’s staring straight ahead, his expression still tense.

  My pulse kicks. What does he mean? I wish I could just ask straight out; I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark here trying to read his behavior for any clues to how he feels.

  But there’s too much at stake to just blurt it out. I couldn’t bear it if I crossed the line and couldn’t ever take it back. The last time I was humiliated by my feelings for Blake, I crossed an ocean to get away from the embarrassment. This time, it isn’t an option—and I don’t have the air mi
les to make it further than Texas. And Tegan and Blake are like family to me. I couldn’t face losing them from my life.

  “This is me.” I come to a stop at the end of the front path, relieved our awkward moonlit stroll is over.

  Blake stops.

  “Thanks,” I add begrudgingly. “For walking me back, I mean. It is kind of creepy out alone at night.”

  He nods. “No problem.”

  There’s a pause. I search for something to say. I don’t want to leave the night like this, not after we had such a nice time. “Ready for your scene tomorrow?” I ask.

  Blake looks up. “I hope so. It’s weird starting with all the break-up scenes,” he adds, relaxing a little. “I wish there was more time to get a connection with Lila, and figure out our characters some more, before getting thrown in the middle of all these big emotional moments.”

  “But you’ve read the script, right?” I ask. “You know what’s happened beforehand.”

  He nods. “Yes, but only half the character ever comes from the script. The rest—the way you look at each other, the way you touch, all those little things—that’s all the stuff you figure out with the other actors, and the director too.” Blake’s expression becomes animated, and I can tell he’s really passionate about this. “It would be like us trying to have a big break-up fight right now. It wouldn’t mean anything without a whole history behind us, the little things we’d say and do that really mattered, you know?”

  I don’t know. But I wish I did.

  Blake pauses, looking bashful. “Sorry, I geek out over the acting stuff.”

  “No! It’s fine,” I say quickly. “I like to hear about it. It’s my first time on a set, so I’m trying to learn everything I can.”

  Blake looks over at me. “Why did you join the crew?” he asks carefully. “Tegan says you got hired a few weeks ago.”

  “I guess it sounded like fun,” I say, trying to keep my voice bright. “And you know how much I love movies. I wanted to see what it was like behind the scenes.”

  Luckily, my answer seems to satisfy Blake. “Well, this isn’t a typical shoot,” he says wryly. “It’s a pretty shoestring affair. We’ve already hit so many hurdles, it’s a wonder Dash even got to yell ‘Action!’”