#Book 1 - Page 18 (1/2)

Al paused at that before asking, “You two are both staying over, correct?”

Dex shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but I booked a motel in Tillamook.”

Al laughed. “The ‘Mook? Oh, you don’t want to stay there. Good for cheese and that’s about it. I insist you stay with us tonight.”

I looked at Dex. There was no denying it—I totally hoped he would say yes.

Dex smiled politely but stayed firm. “And I insist that I don’t. I’ve got a worried girlfriend back in Seattle, and she’s already none too happy that I’m spending the weekend down here with your barely legal niece.”

I felt like someone stabbed me in the gut and I was just leaking disappointment everywhere. Girlfriend? I hadn’t heard him mention a girlfriend yet. And his Facebook didn’t say anything about it either. Then I remembered the pictures of him with his arm around Jennifer Rodriguez. Could that be her?

I looked over at Dex, with his eyebrow ring, dark clothes, long sideburns, s.h.a.ggy black hair, the end of a tattoo that sometimes peeked out beneath his s.h.i.+rt sleeve, alternative music tastes and overall zany personality. He couldn’t possibly be interested in a girl like that, could he?

But then again, what was I expecting? The guy was a filmmaker and, apparently, a composer and one-time singer. He certainly could be charming when he wanted to be, and he was blessed with some very good genes. It made sense that he would have a hot babe as a girlfriend.

I felt foolish. I don’t even know why, I didn’t even really like the guy, but I still felt stupid, nonetheless. As if my subconscious was on the prowl hoping to make a meal of him one day. And how ridiculous was that anyway, like I could even get a guy like him, let alone a guy who is ten years older than me. Didn’t he just say I was barely legal?

I took a deep breath and tried to brush it off. It shouldn’t bother me, but of course it did. Most things that wouldn’t bother anyone else bothered me.

While my mind and heart were having a minor scuffle with each other, Dex and Al were chatting away.

“So, is there a key we could use to get in? We would like to minimize any damage to the lighthouse,” Dex asked Al. “Not that anything would get damaged, but you probably don’t want Mr. Miyagi over here kicking down any doors.” He jettisoned a thumb in my direction.

I smiled brightly, hoping he hadn’t spotted my momentary weakness.

“Yes, there is a skeleton key you can use,” said Al. “Now, come inside for some coffee. I’ll put on a pot.”

Oooh, coffee. That would be welcome, warm and distracting.

“Appreciate it,” said Dex, “but we’ve got do some set-up shots before it gets dark.”

d.a.m.n.

He turned to me and gestured to the trunk of the SUV. “Perry. I’m going to need your help getting the equipment out.”

Al sighed and shuffled inside, disappointed at losing coffee company. “I’ll get you the key.”

I felt bad for him. Last weekend aside, I had a feeling he didn’t get company too often. My parents often said most of his friends were actually his ex-wife’s friends. I made a note of actually talking to Uncle Al later and asking about him instead of running off as I would normally do.

He came back out and pressed the key into my hand, his gentle, worried eyes looking deep into mine. “Don’t stay out too long. I’m ordering Chinese food for us all tonight.”

I nodded and hoped Dex would at least take him up on that offer. Dex gave him a quick wave. “Sounds good.”

Dex headed for the car and I followed, watching his slim hips saunter and his thick, dark hair get whipped up by the breeze.

He opened the trunk and handed me a tall cardboard box.

“What’s this?” I peered down the shaft.

“Just a white bounce board. For light.”

I pulled it out and it flapped out into a round circle that rippled in the wind. I aimed the board at his face, lighting up the shadows under his eyes. He batted his eyes at me, that smirk ever-present.

“Think that’ll make me good-looking?” he asked, untangling some cords.

I desperately thought of something smart to say. All I could think of was how d.a.m.n good-looking he was. I was screwed.

He looked up from the cords with interest, goading me to say something.

“No,” I blurted out lamely.

He laughed and shook his head, turning his attention back to the cords. “I’m disappointed in you. Surely I thought you’d have come up with some grand insult.”

“I was trying,” I said. “And don’t call me s.h.i.+rley.”

That smile again. It made my chest feel funny. Funny in a good way, which made it funny in a bad way. My brain rerouted to thoughts of his girlfriend. d.a.m.n her. d.a.m.n her and d.a.m.n me for caring.

Dex put the cords neatly away and started fiddling with a camera. Without looking at me, he pointed to a long canvas bag.

“Tripod. Don’t take it out, though; just put in on your shoulder.”

I took the tripod bag and awkwardly tried to get the strap around me. It was almost longer than my body and kept hitting the ground and then hitting me in the face. Dex watched this uncomfortable dance with the tripod, which only made me feel more b.u.mbling. Once I had it somewhat under control, he got up with a tiny remote microphone in his hand and stood in front of me.

“s.h.i.+t, you are short, aren’t you?” he stated gleefully. He bent down and pinned the microphone onto my sweater. His face was mere inches away from mine. I didn’t dare breathe. I studied the bead on his eyebrow ring; it looked like black obsidian, with the tiniest scrolls of grey and white. My heart thumped in my throat. That rush of energy and warmth started creeping through my body again.

This was ridiculous. I needed to detach myself from the situation. p.r.o.nto.