Page 39 of One Kind Hand

“Just in case.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked, because if they didn’t get involved in something else fast she was definitely going to throw herself at him, possible concussion or not.

“Is that your way of saying you’re hungry?”

So. Hungry. “I suppose I could eat.”

Austin let go of her and reached behind them to the narrow table against the back of the couch. He produced a room service menu and dropped it in her lap. “Order whatever you want then double it. I’ll eat it too.”

She picked up the menu after giving Berto a little pat. “What if I order something you don’t like?” She quickly perused it, noting that nothing had prices attached to the descriptions, reminding her she was, in fact, in a penthouse suite with a rich, famous person.

“I like everything.” His blue gaze slowly combing over her told her, loud and clear, that he liked everything he saw next to him.

Shiver.

She turned her attention back to the menu. “Where are the burgers on this thing?”

He plucked it from her hand and flipped it over. “Right here. And good choice.” He handed it back.

Charlie read the fancy-ass description, deciphered that it was actually an eccentric burger with peppers and portabella mushrooms, and placed the order, adding potato wedges which she hoped were a dressed-up version of fries. “This all better be as good as the food at Mountain View Pizza in Maplehaven.”

“Is that a favorite hangout of yours?”

“I’d move in if the owners, Kyle and Heidi, would let me. Everything out of that kitchen is wonderful. Most people love the pizza, but I’ve always preferred the burgers. Organic beef. Locally-grown tomatoes and lettuce in the summer.” She rolled her eyes and patted her stomach. “So good.”

“I think I’ll need a field trip to Maplehaven while I’m in Vermont,” Austin said. “Will you be my tour guide?”

“You . . . you seriously want to see Maplehaven?” What would someone accustomed to the glamour of Hollywood and the bustle of New York think about tiny, simple Maplehaven?

“I’m definitely serious. I told you I wanted to meet Marco Vieira.” He traced a circle on the back of her hand resting on the cushion next to Berto, who was nearly asleep with his bird toy tucked under him. “I’d also like to meet this Isabel friend of yours. If she’s the one who convinced you to enter your chopper to be in my movie, then I owe her thanks.” He met Charlie’s gaze. “Actually I might owe her my life. If you hadn’t been on the set today, who knows how long it would have taken one of the yahoos working on the movie to get to me.”

“They were all concerned and moved pretty fast too.”

“Yeah, but I heard you barking orders to people. If they’d just gone at moving those pieces of pavement, I could have been further injured. You had a good view to tell them how best to help me.”

She shrugged. “Like I said, it was an automatic response for me. See someone in trouble. Help someone in trouble.”

“Save someone in trouble.” He shifted a little closer.

Or maybe she did.

Austin carefully scooped up Berto and deposited the pup on the cushion on the other side of him, giving him an uninterrupted stretch of couch between them. “You need more comfortable clothes.” He plucked at the sleeve of her sweater.

“I actually have sweats in my SUV, but I don’t know where that valet squirreled away my vehicle.”

“We can get those sweats for you.” Austin got up, walked into the kitchen, and picked up his phone from the island. “Are they in a bag?”

“Yes. A tie-dyed one.” Charlie joined him, but she stood on the other side of the island, not trusting herself to be too close. The desire to rub herself against him, cat-like, nearly overpowered her. Did the man give off pheromones or something?

Austin tapped his phone a few times then set it on the island.

“Stonecrest Inn and Suites,” a pleasant male voice said. “How can I assist you, Mr. Rayhill?”

“Hi. A valet parked my guest’s SUV. I’d like someone to retrieve a tie-dyed bag from it and deliver it to my suite, please.”

“Right away, sir. Will there be anything else?”

Austin raised an eyebrow in question to Charlie who shook her head, a little mystified that it was someone’s job to rummage around in guests’ vehicles to bring them shit. For the entirety of her adult life, Charlie had always gotten her own shit. Oversized suites, fancy burgers, people to fetch stuff. She definitely had entered a different reality.