Kiss and Make Up Page 8

  “So speak quieter,” Mick said.

  “No, don’t.” Madeleine’s eyes danced. “This is very interesting. When did you two get together?”

  “We’re not ‘together,’” Tabby said, cheeks burning, wishing she hadn’t flirted with him.

  “Oh, so it’s just sex then?” Madeleine asked cheerfully. “Cool.”

  Mick took pity on her. “Sorry, Tabby. We’re being unfair. It’s none of our business.”

  “No, it’s not,” Eli said. He turned around and made a show of getting out his iPad and bringing up a book.

  It’s just sex, then. Tabby swallowed. Eli hadn’t contradicted Madeleine, and now appeared engrossed in his book. She bit her lip. What had she expected—a declaration of love? They both knew what they were doing was temporary. Neither of them wanted more than that.

  At that moment, though, he reached across, took her hand, and squeezed it before returning to hold his iPad. The gesture was simple, but somehow it echoed her feelings—they couldn’t say it, but for good or bad, it was more than just sex. His words rang in her head: You are such fun, Tabatha Rogers. I could play with you forever and not get bored.

  She covered her flustered emotions by retrieving a drink from her bag and unscrewing the lid. Or trying to, anyway. The bottle had been tightened by maniacal factory robots determined to get their revenge on mankind, and try as she might, she couldn’t open it. Eli held out a hand, and she gave him the bottle with a sigh. He loosened it with an easy twist and gave it back to her without even looking up from his book.

  She sipped the drink, her gaze lingering on him before she turned to look at the view. They were nearing Foxton Beach, and the van wound through the flats of the Manawatu River mouth. The hills to the east were myriad shades of brown and green, but the river to their left sparkled a lurid blue in the bright sunlight as a flock of spoonbills flew overhead. Happiness surged through her.

  “What are you smiling at?” he asked.

  “You.”

  She wanted to kiss him, but she was aware half of the bus was probably watching them, just as she was aware they’d had their fling and it was supposed to be over. His gaze rested on her mouth as if he was also thinking of kissing her, but as it lifted to hers, she thought she recognized a similar regret in his eyes.

  You’re going to London in a few months’ time, she reminded herself. It would be idiotic to get involved. Especially with someone you could quite easily fall for.

  Because she wasn’t stupid. Who wouldn’t fall for Eli? Her heart would have pounded at the sight of him even if he hadn’t looked at her as if he were imagining her without any clothes.

  Like he was doing now. The regret in his eyes had vanished, to be replaced by white-hot heat. He was remembering having sex with her. And—if she was guessing correctly—thinking about doing it again. That wasn’t good. Because, as she’d already told him, he was like seventy percent cocoa chocolate. Mouth-wateringly tempting, and when he looked at her like that, she had absolutely no willpower.

  Chapter Nine

  They read for a while, until the van stopped outside Palmerston North. Everyone got out for lunch, and got back in after buying coffee and, in Eli’s case, a bag full of snacks. They set off for the next leg of the journey, across country up to Taupo.

  Tabby had bought a takeaway coffee, and she curled up on the seat and sipped it. Eli tried not to stare as she wiped a smudge of foam from her top lip. He was finding it difficult to think about anything but kissing her. He couldn’t remember a word of the ten pages of the book he’d been reading. His mind had been wandering, thinking about Tabby’s lips on his, and how it had felt to be inside her. Conversation, he scolded himself. If he got her talking about her future, maybe it would take his mind off his lustful thoughts and remind him she was going away, and this was only temporary.

  “Tell me about the Delamar,” he said, and bit into an apple. “What’s so special about it?”

  Cupping her coffee in her hands, she turned in her seat to face him, obviously pleased with his interest. “It’s a prestigious makeup school in the UK. They’re based in Ealing Studios.”

  “So what kind of things do they teach?”

  “Well, most of the work’s done in workshops and in practical exercises. I’m getting a higher education certificate in professional makeup design. It covers camouflage and period makeup, wigs, facial hair, aging, and prosthetics, as well as haircutting. But mainly I’m just excited to be going to London.”

  “I can see that. It’s supposed to be quite expensive to live in the UK though, isn’t it?”

  “I was lucky enough to get a scholarship to pay for my fees, which helps a bit.”

  “That’s really cool.”

  “Yeah. And it should mean I have enough cash to hit Oxford Street occasionally. So you haven’t been there?”

  “No. I’ve covered every inch of New Zealand, but I haven’t been abroad much.”

  “I would have liked to travel across Europe afterward. I wanted to see the world before I settle down.” She toyed with the lid of the coffee cup, and he watched a frown appear on her brow. She’d used the past tense, “would have liked” and “wanted.” Why had she changed her mind?

  After finishing his apple, he tossed the core into the trash bag before starting on a muesli bar. “‘Wanted’? Is your family putting up a fuss?”

  She scratched at the lid with a fingernail. “Sort of. Lisa—that’s my sister—feels she has too much responsibility looking after our parents, because she also has three kids. And she’s right, of course.”

  “You’re only twenty-three.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Your dad can’t be that old.”

  “Fifty-two.”

  “That’s relatively young—how much looking after does he need?”

  She continued to pick at the lid. “He has early onset Alzheimer’s.”

  He was quiet for a moment. No wonder it wasn’t an easy decision for her to move away. “I’m sorry.”

  She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”

  “So your mum’s…”

  “Fifty-one.”

  He frowned. “That’s hardly old. I’m sure it must be difficult with your dad, but surely she’s young enough to still be able to get around.”

  “Oh, she is, but he has some really bad days, and she struggles emotionally as well as physically. I’ve suggested she get help until I come home—they’ve got enough money. But he was her first love—her only love, and I think she feels she’d be letting him down if she didn’t look after him herself.”

  “But she’s struggling to cope on her own?”

  “Yes. She wants her daughters’ support, which is fair. She’s a big believer in the family unit, you know? And so am I, don’t get me wrong. I want to help—I hate seeing my father like this, and Mom struggle. But I don’t see what’s so bad about getting some temporary help. She makes me feel disloyal for suggesting it, though.”

  “Parents do seem to have a knack for making their children feel guilty.”

  She grimaced. “Yes, they do. But I’m not going to be like that to my kids. I’m going to send them out into the world and tell them not to worry about me.”

  “You want kids?”

  “Yeah, I guess so, eventually. When I’m done traveling. You?”

  “Definitely. I want six. At least.”

  She laughed. “Are you going to form your own stunt troupe?”

  “Yep.”

  “Would you want boys or girls?”

  He thought about it. “Five boys and a girl. I’d like the girl to dress up in ballerina and fairy costumes, but it would be just my luck for her to be more at home sword fighting in a pirate’s outfit.” He’d meant it as a jest, but something shifted inside him at the thought of a little girl with Tabby’s dark hair standing before him, refusing to put on a tutu and instead demanding he show her how to fall safely down the stairs. He’d never thought about having kids much, but he could see the attracti
on of having them with Tabby.

  Their eyes met for a moment, and he saw the same flicker of regret in hers that he was feeling himself. A future like that was not in the cards for them, not together, anyway.

  She looked down for a moment, took a deep breath, and pinned a smile on her face. “Tell me about LA.”

  He shrugged. “Always wanted to go there. It’s the center of the universe for filmmaking, isn’t it? When you work in LA, you’ve really made it, you know?”

  “Tell her the rest of it,” Mick said from behind them.

  Tabby peered through the gap in the seats at Mick, but he didn’t look up from his book.

  “Ask him,” Mick said.

  She turned back to Eli, who gritted his teeth with exasperation.

  “What’s he talking about?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” He picked up his iPad and brought up his book.

  She pushed herself to her knees and leaned over the seat. “He won’t tell me.”

  Mick closed his book, and Madeleine looked up, interested. “He’s going to LA because he promised Charlie he would.”

  “That’s one reason,” Eli said, flicking over the page as if he’d read it, even though he hadn’t.

  She glanced at him and then back at Mick expectantly.

  “They talked about it as kids,” Mick said. “They were always saying how they were going to go to Hollywood and be famous stuntmen. And when Charlie was dying, he made Eli promise he’d still go and do it for them both.”

  Tabby met Madeleine’s gaze, saw the frown between her eyes, and slid down into her seat. She studied Eli for a moment.

  “What?” He glanced across at her. “Don’t go getting all teary on me.”

  “I’m not teary,” she said. “It’s a sad story, though.”

  His gaze shifted to the floor in front of him, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Do you miss him a lot?”

  The question surprised him. “Do you know, no other girl’s ever asked me that?”

  “Seems like an obvious question to me.”

  He looked back at his iPad. “The answer’s yes. Every day.”

  She fell quiet, obviously not sure what to say.

  Lifting up her bag, she rummaged in it and produced another bar of chocolate. Without saying anything, she broke off a square and handed it to him.

  He looked at it, then up at her, his lips curving. “Chocolate’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. It always makes me feel better, anyway.”

  He accepted it, smiling, and sucked on it as she curled back in her seat and retrieved her iPod. She handed him one of the earbuds, and he took it and put it in his ear. Together they listened to her eclectic collection as the van ate up the miles.

  After a while, she rested her head on his shoulder and let the motion of the van lull her to sleep. And Eli smiled.

  …

  The first five days of filming were frantic. They were put up in motels all over Lake Taupo and then driven to the film set early in the mornings. She soon got used to rising at 5:00 a.m. and watching the mist curl off the lake as she stumbled to the van.

  She made up Eli in the morning and bumped into him occasionally on the set—usually at the food tent—but apart from that, she hardly saw him.

  Saturday was the first chance she got to have any time to herself. Geoff Stone gave those people not involved in the morning’s work several hours off, asking them to return to the set at 2:00 p.m. Nearly everyone took the buses back into town to do some shopping, but Tabby felt the need for some time alone and remained at the set.

  She sat outside the makeup trailer and looked across at the view. The designers had found a nook of the Waikato River surrounded by forests and backed by a steep cliff face that was going to be the center of the island of Atlantis, and they’d built the castle into the cliff. The set was huge, breathtaking, and magical.

  She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to take some photographs and jumped as it rang in her hand. She checked the display and groaned as she saw her mother’s number. She was tempted to ignore it and let it go to voicemail, but Delia Rogers had called three times that morning, and Tabby knew she couldn’t ignore it again.

  She swiped the screen. “Hello?”

  “Tabby.”

  “Hi, Mom.” Tabby closed her eyes. Her mother had said the one word, and Tabby was already irritated.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all morning.”

  “I’m sorry, I was working.”

  “Oh, of course,” Delia said, managing to make it sound like only the craziest people worked on a Saturday. “Perhaps I should call back…”

  “I’m here now, Mom,” Tabby said as patiently as she could. “Is everything okay?”

  Delia was silent. Then she said, “It’s Lisa.”

  “Lisa?” Tabby frowned. “What’s Lisa done?”

  “She’s being horrible to me,” said Delia. Then she burst into sobs.

  Tabby’s stomach knotted with guilt and dismay. There was nothing worse than hearing your parents cry. “What happened?”

  “I called to ask if she’d pick me up some bread and milk,” Delia said through her sobs. “And she said she was too busy. Luke had a soccer game or something. But I’m completely out of creamer and if Alan doesn’t get his cup of coffee with his lunch, it puts him in a funk. So I said a few words—I may have been a bit sharp—and she hung up on me.”

  “Mom, you’ve got to find a way to deal with this without involving Lisa all the time.” Frustration made Tabby want to bang her head on the wall. “I know it’s hard, and you’ve got a lot on your plate, but you can’t keep asking Lisa to help you. She has three children and a busy life, and while I know she’s glad to help when she can, her family has to come first.”

  “We’re her family,” Delia sniffed.

  “I meant her husband and kids. They’re her first priority, and they should be.”

  “I can’t do it.” Delia’s voice was curt.

  “Do what?”

  “Do this. Alone. I can’t do it, Tabby. You don’t realize what it’s like, with your father. Some days he doesn’t even recognize me. He’s confused and irritable. Sometimes he’s so rude to me.” She went quiet again.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.” Tabby wanted to cry at the thought of her father acting in that way. Before the illness, he’d been a quiet, respectful man with much dignity, and he’d adored his wife. He would be horrified to know how he treated Delia, and how they all worried about him.

  She cleared her throat. “Look, I’ve got another few weeks of filming left after this, and then I can come and stay for a while. Maybe we can talk about ways you can get help while I’m away in England.”

  “Don’t go,” Delia whispered. “Don’t go to England, Tabby. Stay here with me.”

  Tabby clenched the phone tightly. “I can’t.”

  “Please. I need you.”

  Tears stung Tabby’s eyes, sharp as needles. She wanted to help, but she’d given up everything for Simon and it had been the biggest regret of her life so far. He’d taken her generous sacrifice and stomped on it, and it had nearly destroyed her. “I’ve got to do this now or I’ll never go.”

  “Just wait another year.”

  “Look, when I’m certified, I can come home and find a job. I’ll be happy to help then.”

  “There must be makeup schools in New York you could go to instead.”

  “Yes, but I’ve got a scholarship—it makes sense to go there if they’re paying for my fees.”

  “So ask if you can delay it—I’m sure they’ll understand that we need you.”

  “It only lasts a year, Mom. It’s now or never, and better now, before Dad…” She was going to say “gets even worse,” but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She massaged her forehead. “I’m trying to do the best thing for all of us in the long run. It might feel like a struggle at the moment, but once I’m done, I’ll be able to get better jo
bs, which means more money to help make your lives easier, as well as Lisa’s. I know it looks selfish—but I promise it’ll be worth it when I’m done.”

  The phone was growing slippery in her hands as her palms grew damp with her raging emotions. “I’ve got to go. I promise, in two weeks’ time I’ll come and stay, and we’ll talk about it. Okay?” She convinced Delia they’d discuss it later, and hung up the phone.

  Chapter Ten

  Across the set, Eli leaned against the wall of a trailer, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and watched as Tabby put her face in her hands and cried. He fought the urge to go over and comfort her. He wasn’t her boyfriend, and she didn’t need a white knight to swoop in and rescue her. She was a big girl—she’d sort it out on her own.

  Still, his heart ached. Presumably the call had been from a member of her family, layering on the guilt again.

  What should he do? He’d hardly seen her all week, and he’d missed her, which was crazy considering he hardly knew her. He’d tortured himself at night in the motel with thoughts of her in his arms, and during the day he’d frequently found himself wishing she were by his side, brightening up his morning with her smile and the way she liked to tease him.

  The sight of her in tears made him clench his fists. How could he help? Friends helped other friends in need.

  Frowning, he pushed himself off the wall and walked toward his trailer. He had an idea to cheer her up.

  Ten minutes later, he sauntered across the grass to her trailer. Tabby had dried her tears and she sat quietly, holding a Sharpie, drawing tiny stars and moons on the back of her left hand, which still held her cell phone as if she felt she should return the call, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “Hey,” Eli said.

  She lifted her hand to shade her eyes. He didn’t miss the way they lit up at the sight of him. “Hey.”

  “Whatcha doing?”

  She blew out a breath. “Depressing myself.”

  “Cool,” he said, tipping his head. “Are you happy doing that, or do you want to come on a picnic with me?”

  “A picnic?” She stared as he turned to show her the backpack he carried.