Page 30 of One Kind Hand

Berto nudged her bruised elbow and she jumped, breaking the spell.

“Jesus, Berto!” Austin popped out of his seat and rounded the table. He scooped up the dog and brought him back to his seat. “You stay over here and don’t hurt Charlie.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” She added more maple syrup to her French toast. “Actually . . . this bruise is your fault.”

“My fault?” Austin put a hand to his chest, his other arm trying to keep Berto wrangled in his lap. “How is it my fault? I wasn’t anywhere near you when it happened.”

“But you were here.” Charlie pointed to her head. “Mucking up the works.”

Austin’s smile grew to dangerous levels. Levels Charlie’s libido almost couldn’t handle.

“See? Effects,” he said. “We’ll have to do something about those effects.”

Charlie grunted her agreement then they both got more serious about finishing breakfast. They did have places to be after all so whatever they might do about those effects Austin had mentioned would have to be put on the back burner for now. The trick was shutting off that burner in the meantime.

When their plates were cleaned and their stomachs stuffed, they were ready to head to the filming location. Charlie offered to drive and Austin hadn’t fought her, which meant Charlie didn’t have to ride in that ridiculous sports car.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, Charlie made sure she didn’t have any blueberry stuck in her teeth or maple syrup drool dried on her chin. She ran her fingers through the curls Isabel had insisted Charlie let her make when Charlie had stopped at Pine River Cottages to borrow shoes.

“I have the perfect boots!” Isabel had clapped and dragged Charlie into her bedroom where Jackson was still sprawled on their bed and snoring.

Charlie had clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“Isn’t he magnificent?” Isabel had spent a solid five seconds watching her fiancé sleep.

“My God, you have it bad,” Charlie had whispered.

“And maybe you’ll have a movie star today!” Isabel had eased her closet door open and took a nanosecond to select a pair of shoes. Back out in the living room, she’d presented the ankle boots and sure as shit, they’d been perfect. “Nice job on the rest of the ensemble, but we’re curling this.” She’d circled Charlie’s head with her index finger then yanked her to the bathroom to plug in a curling iron. In about fifteen minutes, Charlie’s hair had been transformed from her usual sleek, straight style to something soft and . . . bouncy.

“This is . . . different,” Charlie had said as she’d studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“You look movie star worthy to me,” Isabel had said, pushing Charlie out of the bathroom and to the front door. “Go forth and do what every woman who has ever watched an Austin Rayhill movie has dreamed of doing.”

“And what’s that exactly?”

Isabel and Charlie had both jumped at the sound of Jackson’s voice. The man had appeared in the living room, his arms folded across his chest.

“Good luck getting out of this one,” Charlie had said, giving Isabel a squeeze and jetting back out to her SUV. She had no doubt Jackson would accept whatever explanation Isabel had concocted. That man was head-over-heels for Isabel.

Head-over-heels. Not a feeling Charlie had often. Or ever, really. But she couldn’t deny that the tuning fork feeling she’d had after meeting Austin yesterday had only intensified through this morning’s breakfast.

And now she had time to watch him do what he did for the cameras. She needed to buy Isabel a huge present for getting her to enter her chopper.

She pulled open the bathroom door and walked out to the living room. Austin was leaning on the wall by the suite’s front door, scrolling on his phone. The sunlight streaming in from the large living room windows got caught up in the golden streaks in his brown hair and scruff. It made him look angelic—if angels were buff and over six feet tall. Charlie was entranced.

So entranced that she didn’t see Berto at her feet until she was tripping over the little beastie. She tensed up, hoping not to hit her bruised elbow on the hardwood floor.

Strong arms hooked around her and no part of her hit hardwood floor. Instead she found herself pressed against Austin’s muscular chest as he held her up. God, he smelled so good. Like the pine soap in the bathroom and toothpaste and fame.

“Berto, Jesus.” Austin righted her, slowly letting his arms drop. “I hate when he does that. Are you okay?”

Charlie ran her hands over her sweater that had been smooshed against Austin. It was still warm from his presence. “Yeah, I’m fine. Now that you had an in-person demonstration of how not graceful I can be.” She rolled her eyes and Austin let out a soft laugh.

“I’m sure you’ll see me take multiple tumbles during today’s filming. I never get stunts perfect on the first go.”

Feeling brave—and because Austin was still standing pretty close—Charlie lifted her hand and traced her index finger along the underside of his whiskered chin. “Be careful. You wouldn’t want to damage this face.”

Austin’s eyes closed and a low groan rasped from his throat. The sound made Charlie’s core clench.