Home > Choose Me (The Lindstroms #4)(6)

Choose Me (The Lindstroms #4)(6)
Author: Katy Paige

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“A throwback to our shared youth. How very sophisticated of you to quote Pee Wee Herman,” she muttered, looking down quickly, feeling her face flush hot.

“I mean it,” he said in a decent imitation of the Paul Reubens’ character. “Do you need a camera? I could loan you one. Do you want me to smile? Pose?”

She squirmed in her seat, peeking at him with an embarrassed grimace. “Fine. I admit it. I was staring. You were mouthing the words, but no sound was coming out.”

It was mostly the truth.

He flicked a glance to her. “Smooth.”

“Conceited.”

“Quick.”

“Forgiven.”

“Intriguing.”

She grinned. Since when was Jane Mays intriguing to anyone? Especially anyone as hot as Lars Lindstrom? She felt a little chuffed, a little saucy, maybe even a little sexy.

Or maybe she was feeling sexy because of the ass massage her phone was giving her. She’d been so distracted by Lars, she hadn’t realized it was buzzing. She shifted in her seat to pull it out of her back pocket.

Samara. Jane stared at her name and beautiful face on the iPhone screen, the familiar heaviness of servitude compressing her chest. She clenched her jaw, knowing that if she answered, she was going to have to listen to some long tirade that required immediate attention.

But Jane was tired. She was tired of being at the beck and call of a fully grown woman who had no appreciation, respect or understanding of what Jane did for her every day.

Maybe it was time Sara found out.

For one day, after five years in manacles, she wanted to be free. She just wanted to be Jane, with her own thoughts, her own experiences, a conversation with a handsome blond and a little 60s music. Was that too much to ask? She was sick and tired of being an extension of Samara Amaya, a nobody, a shadow.

Oh, she wouldn’t get involved with Lars. This wasn’t about Lars, and the memory of Ben was still fresh enough to sting. No, this was about Jane. This was about Jane having a few hours to herself.

In a second the phone would start playing Sara’s favorite song, Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful,” whose meaning had been totally lost on Sara, but which she had programmed into Jane’s phone as her ringtone anyway.

Jane’s finger hovered over the green Talk button for a moment, but she impulsively hit the red End button instead, exhaling loudly, then almost giggling with the outlandish reality that she just hung up on Samara Amaya. Throwing all caution and sanity to the wind, she pressed hard on the power button until the phone powered down completely. She stared at the screen for three seconds, realizing she’d never seen it so black and still.

“Anything important?” asked Lars, turning down the volume.

“No,” answered Smooth, Quick, Intriguing Jane. She turned the music back up and tossed the phone into the outer pocket of her backpack.

Right now I’m just going to be Jane Mays. Nobody’s assistant. Nobody’s cousin. Nobody’s niece. Sadly, nobody’s daughter. Today is for me. Just for me.

She turned to Lars and smiled, feeling a thousand-pound weight slip off her shoulders. Oh, she’d pay for her rash decision later. But, for now, as Ray had kindly pointed out, she had three days to herself.

And damn if Jane wasn’t going to make the most of them.

***

Lars pulled up in front of Sara’s on-location housing in Gardiner, Montana, and all Jane could think was: Sara is going to have a fit.

A month ago, after looking at the four or five hotel options in Gardiner, and as politely as possible, Jane had insisted that Trend rent a house for the entirety of Sara’s stay. She reminded Trend that Samara Amaya was accustomed to a two-bedroom suite at the finest hotels in the world when on location, and she would not be comfortable in a hotel room. The magazine had graciously arranged for a house to be leased while Sara was in Gardiner, and while they didn’t have a photo for Jane, they had assured her it would be the local equivalent of a two-bedroom suite.

Jane lowered her Chanel sunglasses, looking up at the shiny, new fluorescent sign over her head that read “Kozy Kabins” with a jaunty red arrow that blinked cheerfully toward the four brand-new housekeeping cottages.

On one hand, she could see why they had been chosen. The construction was new, that was obvious. Obvious by the fact that there was not one blade of grass, bush or tree to be seen around the full perimeter of the solitary four cottages, whose medium-toned, orange-hued logs were almost a perfect match to the dust at her feet. There was no driveway, no patch of grass, no other sign of life. Just four log cottages with green metal roofs plopped down in the middle of nowhere with a view to an expansive meadow that extended to a faraway mountain range.

“This is…for Samara?”

“Yep.” Lars nodded, standing next to her on the red soil. “Got it all fixed up just in time too.”

Oh, my God, he doesn’t even realize how unacceptable this is.

“Are those,” she gestured to the other three cottages, “for her staff?”

Lars shook his head. “Nope. We were only asked to secure a cottage for Miss Amaya. Those three aren’t even finished yet. I’m not sure they even have the electric wired in yet.”

Jane turned to face him, her eyes wide. “This is a …a vacation cabin.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This is…not what she’s used to.”

Lars furrowed his brow, and then shrugged. “We don’t exactly have six-bedroom, million-dollar houses lying around Gardiner waiting for someone to come rent for a week. The travel department at Trend said that the minimum requirement was a two-bedroom suite. None of the local hotels have suites, let alone a two-bedroom suite. We figured if we fixed this up, it’d be the closest to what Ms. Amaya requires.”

“Yes, but—” Jane rooted around in her bag until she found a Tootsie Pop, unwrapped it, jamming it into her mouth and letting herself out of the van. She cringed at the dust and dirt that surrounded the small cottage and swirled around her feet, and the Eau d’Construction Site odor.

This is a disaster.

As she made her way toward the front door of the cottage, she turned back and waggled her lollipop at Lars. “You want one?”

“Umm, a sucker?”

“Yeah. They’re delicious. And there’s a secret in the center…” she cajoled, in a sing-song voice.

“I don’t remember the last time I had one.”

She fished another out of her bag. “Then it’s time.”

While he unwrapped his treat, he looked to her left.

“So those cabins are…empty?”

“Yep. This one here’s the only one that’s furnished. It’s brand new. Wasn’t supposed to even be open until next spring. They rushed this one and got it all set up nice for Ms. Amaya.”

Jane looked up and noted two satellite dishes on the roof. Shiny and garish in the mid-afternoon sun, they looked ridiculously large on the small roof. She gestured to them with her lollipop. “What’s with those?”

“TV and Internet. Said you needed them.”

She glanced at him and realized he was staring at her, so she nodded.

Sara would have plenty to say about that, starting with the fact that they weren’t aesthetically pleasing, perched on the green tin roof over the front door. That was after she got finished screaming about the Kozy Kabins, in general, of course.

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