They were in the family room of his house, still snowed in. Although the storm had passed, the roads weren’t close to cleared. Rosalind had texted earlier that morning to say most of downtown was closed. Madeline had agreed on keeping the store shut. They didn’t have any appointments and it was close enough to Christmas that everyone would be focused on their holiday plans. Isabel was staying home, as well. No doubt kept there by her loving and concerned husband.
Which left Madeline staying with Jonny for yet another night. So far they’d had breakfast, then he’d gone to work out in his superfancy gym. While he’d offered to let her come along, she’d refused. She would have loved to watch him sweat, but didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a ridiculous groupie. And having him watch her pant her way through a very beginner walking program on the treadmill was not her idea of a good time.
They’d had lunch and he’d asked if she wanted to look at a script he was considering.
“What’s it about?” she asked.
“Read it and find out.” He glanced away from her, then back. “I’d like to know what you think.”
There was something in his tone. She couldn’t define it exactly, but if she had to guess, she would say he was unsure. About the project?
“Okay, sure. I’ve never read a screenplay before.”
“The formatting takes some getting used to. You can ignore the stage directions. Just read the dialogue. Pretend it’s an audio book.”
She nodded and settled on the sofa. Within a couple of pages, she was caught up in the story of Dean Woodley, a guy from the wrong side of town who was determined to make it to the top. Through a series of unexpected events, Dean found himself fostering three street kids who were desperate for connection and guidance, even as they stole from him and nearly got him arrested for drug dealing.
The story was gritty and funny and, when one of the boys was killed in a drive-by shooting, devastating. Madeline read until the end, when the two remaining boys graduated from high school and Dean won the girl. Then she went back to the beginning and read it all again. When she’d finished for the second time, she looked up to find several lamps on and Jonny watching her from the other end of the sofa.
“You’re crying,” he said as he handed her a tissue.
“Am I?” She wiped away her tears. “What time is it?”
“Nearly six.”
“I read all afternoon? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I asked you to read it. What did you think?”
She hugged the script close. “I loved it. I’m usually a fast reader, but it took me a while to get over all the stage directions, or whatever they’re called. This is such a great story.”
She thought about Amish Revenge and all the other movies he’d starred in. Each of those characters had been a variation on a theme. Dean Woodley was completely different. “Are you thinking of doing this?”
“I don’t know. I want to. Annelise thinks it’s a good idea but then she’s always seen more in me than I do. It’s not what my fans expect of me.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” She put the screenplay on the coffee table. “I don’t know how the business works and I don’t think I could tell a good screenplay from a bad one. What I can say is this was compelling and interesting.” She smiled. “I like that he gets the girl at the end.”
“Of course you do. You sell wedding gowns. Happy endings matter to you.”
“To you, too. Are you worried that it’s not a Jonny Blaze movie if you don’t kick some bad-guy butt?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t in this one.”
“I think people would be okay with that.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate your opinion.”
“Why?” she asked, before she could stop herself.
“You have good taste. You’re honest.”
Couldn’t she be sexy instead? She held in a sigh. She would accept that she was the golden retriever of women in his life and try to be happy with that.
“We need to think about dinner,” she said. “Do you remember which casserole I took out this morning? I think it was tamale pie. That’s going to be great. There’s enough salad left from last night, and cookies. Because it wouldn’t be a good dinner without cookies.”
She paused, waiting for Jonny to say something. Instead, he stared at her. She had no idea what he was thinking. It could have been anything from him silently counting the minutes until he could finally take her back to town to a deep desire for peanut butter cookies. What she didn’t expect was for him to slide the few feet separating them, gather her in his arms and kiss her.