Page 34 of Never Date a Celebrity

“Mmm. Another issue, in my opinion. She won’t even see it coming. It sounds like you’re playing a dangerous game there. I sincerely hope that you know what you’re doing.”

Amelia squirmed because she absolutely did not know what she was doing. And the thought of Imogen getting blindsided was unthinkable. She wouldn’t let it happen. Amelia would fix this. Somehow. “My point is, we’re keeping things very low-key right now. The risk of word getting out about us dating is minimal.”

Helen snorted. “That won’t last long. It only takes one fan to get one picture of you making googly eyes at one another walking along the street and this whole thing blows right up. At least think about it, Amelia. Consider the repercussions and ask yourself whether it’s worth it. It’s not fun when your life turns into a circus. So, ask yourself if you’re prepared for the fallout. Can you do that?”

“Fine. Yes.” Amelia wasn’t about to cut contact with Imogen—that wasn’t an option. But they probably wouldn’t see each other for a few days which would buy her some time to come up with a plan on how to handle things. “I’ll think it over.”

“Good. In that case, I’ll let you get on.” Helen abruptly clicked off the call. Amelia wasn’t offended, that was just how she operated. Helen was a busy woman with much to do, and likely many fires to put out. Amelia just hoped that she wasn’t about to give her another one. Surely she was overreacting about this.

“So, who’s Imogen?” a voice purred from behind, and Amelia almost fell backward off the brick wall again.

She clutched her chest. “Bridget? How long have you been standing there?”

Bridget chuckled as she casually leaned down on her elbows on the wall beside Amelia. “Long enough to hear that your people are getting their underwear in a kink about this fancy woman of yours. You never mentioned you were seeing someone.”

“Why would I tell you?” Amelia snapped, then instantly regretted it. She was usually better at keeping her cool, but between the fatigue, the cold, and her call with Helen, she wasn’t in the most patient of moods. So much for escaping to her trailer for some R&R. “Sorry. I just mean that I haven’t told people, Bridget. It’s new. Too new for all this aggro,” she muttered.

Bridget remained undeterred. “So, that’s why you’ve been demanding so much time off. At least I know now why you’ve been distracted.”

Distracted? Seriously? “I wouldn’t say that I have,” she replied, her calm back in check. And the only person Amelia had witnessed making demands on set was Bridget. She even had a specification of the exact temperature she liked her drinking water served at. All hell broke loose if it was a degree wrong.

“Hmm. Well, sort out your issues. There’s no room for girlfriend problems when we have our big scenes coming up and I need you on your game. In fact, the only reason I came over here was to see if you needed any tips.”

Amelia bit back a laugh. “You’re going to give me tips?”

Bridget daintily waved her hand. “I know it’s very generous of me. But in order for me to look good, I need you to at least look acceptable. Of course, I can probably carry a scene by myself, but why should I have to?”

Amelia stared at her. “You know I’ve done romance movies before, right? A ton. And I was in two different shows for four seasons each time. Kissing scenes galore.”

“But I’ve never done one with a wo—” Bridget’s eyes widened. “I mean, you’ve never done one with me before.” Busted.

“So, that’s what this is.” Amelia grinned. “This is your first kiss with a woman and you’re panicking. Bridget Clemonte is nervous.”

Bridget scoffed. “Please. I don’t get nervous. I figured you must be.”

“Nope,” Amelia replied chirpily, highly amused by this new revelation. “I’m all good, but thank you so much for thinking of me.”

Bridget glared at her. “I’m not naive to sarcasm, Amelia. And I am not nervous.” She waved a hand. “You know what? Forget I offered. I’ll let you get back to your PR crisis. I look forward to reading all about it when the shit hits the fan.” She pushed herself up and strutted back toward set.

Amelia had to hand it to her, Bridget somehow managed to look sophisticated even as she trudged through the muddy field in a sulk. Amelia blew out another cold breath. At least Helen and Bridget had given her a momentary distraction from being frozen to the bone, though the ice-cold wind howling around her ears quickly reminded her. Shuddering, she tried to breathe some warmth into her hands so that her thumbs would work well enough to reply to Imogen’s message, but it was fruitless. She pushed herself off the wall and headed to her trailer where she could blast the heat and thaw out.

When she arrived, Amelia flicked on the light and the heating switch, then threw herself down on her white couch without taking her coat off. She reread Imogen’s text, smiled again, and finally fired off a reply.

You’re the mastermind who invented the platters, all I did was suggest you expand their audience, so I refuse to take credit. My day is long, cold, busy, and did I mention cold? How is it freezing after yesterday was so nice? A native must have answers. I hope your day is much better.

It was after five o’clock already, which had to be a busy time in bar world. Wasn’t that why that saying existed—it’s five o’clock somewhere? That meant that she probably wasn’t going to hear back from Imogen anytime soon. With a sigh, she rose from the sofa and headed to the bathroom for a quick, hot shower—the only real way to warm up properly, in Amelia’s opinion.

When she stepped out blessedly all warm and toasty, her phone lit up beside the sink with a notification. Amelia smiled. It looked like Imogen was free after all. It was amazing how a shower and a text from Imogen could improve her mood so much. A mint tea and Amelia would be ready to kick the rest of today’s ass. She wrapped her pink, fluffy towel around her body as she read.

Ah ha, well the Irish weather prefers to remain a bit mysterious. It’s all part of the charm. You could need four layers today and go out in a T-shirt tomorrow. Who knows? I am sorry you’re cold though, so consider me pissed at the weather on your behalf. Does that mean you’re stuck working outside today? Fine, we can share platter glory. Maybe you could come and sample another one again soon?

Rather than allowing herself to rejoice over Imogen asking her out again, Amelia homed in on the work question, unable to ignore the shame and guilt filling up inside her. Surprisingly, Imogen hadn’t fished for any work details the previous day. Of course, Amelia hadn’t been forthcoming either and she had chickened out of her confession. She had also been purposefully vague on the day they met. So, it was only natural that Imogen’s curiosity would be piqued at some point.

She grabbed her phone and went to sit on the king-size bed that she barely used. Amelia hardly ever took naps, and the cast all had rooms at the hotel to sleep in at night.

What had she told Imogen she did again? That she made the movie look good. Amelia cringed at the descriptor. She’d said that knowing it could mean anything really. Imogen probably thought she was part of the editing team or something. That would have been Amelia’s guess based on what she’d said. And now she was going to have to answer without giving away any specifics once again. She had to. It wasn’t like Amelia could own up over a DM. Imagine, “Yes I was outside all day because a lot of the movie is filmed outside and I’m actually one of the leads.” No way.

Luckily, I’m back inside now. She fucking hated herself. I’m sure you don’t have to worry about the weather in the Wishing Well. And even more so now that she was deflecting. Amelia groaned. She couldn’t go on this way, and Helen was right. It would get taken out of her hands if someone saw them together and managed to snap a photo. Also, if Amelia went to the bar, Imogen’s two friends would surely know who she was. They’d been at the open day for Always the Bridesmaid, where there were larger-than-life posters of her and Bridget draped everywhere. Are you asking me on another date, Imogen? Where would I be sampling these fine platters of yours?