Caz grabbed her and kissed her passionately on the mouth; he totally skipped step one, and she didn’t care. Nudging her mouth open with his, he took charge. Her mind went blank and her body tingled. Caz raised the sweater up and over her head.

Ashley wasn’t cold anymore. She moved closer, shoved his jacket off, and pressed against his hard chest. He put an arm to the floor and stood. Her boots thumped to the floor. He grabbed her and lifted her. Feeling weightless, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He moved a step forward, bracing her against the wall. For a second she felt the wall against her back, then the firmness of him, then a feeling of weightlessness.

Weightlessness, falling, bam. Her arm hit something hard and her body landed against Caz. Evidently, the three-sided walls weren’t connected. They’d fallen through a gap, off the platform and onto the ground. Ashley tried to suck in a breath, but it took a second. With a groan she lifted off of Caz. “You okay?”

He groaned. “No.”

“Want to go inside?”

“Yes.”

Standing, Ashley brushed at her clothes in order to brush off nature. Her fingertips felt tight from the cold. Dry, powdery snow dusted her arms. She couldn’t see her sweater or the jacket in the darkness; if they were still on the platform, she had no interest in climbing back up there to get them.

Ashley moved toward the lodge. Wind whipped through night, sticks crackled underneath her boots, and she clutched her arms to her chest. Every frozen step brought her closer to the porch and the light. First the path became visible, then the steps. Warmth was close. Ashley jogged the last few feet and slipped into the welcome warmth of the foyer, holding the door for Caz.

The light of the foyer shined, revealing his mussed hair, flushed face, and bits of nature clinging to him—dirt, leaves, snow. When nature attacked, nature won.

***

The wrap party was tomorrow night. While glad the film was finished, Ashley couldn’t believe Caz hadn’t said anything about them going together. He’d spent most of the day staring at his phone. Maybe she misread things and she was just a convenient work friend in his mind.

Garrett wasn’t as preoccupied as Caz. He still had time to talk to her. The supporting actor grinned, his Scottish accent as pronounced as ever. “Going to the wrap party? There’s going to be food. The darling in craft services said they’d be using an outside caterer.”

“Thank God. I won’t have to eat first.”

“I’ll still eat first.” Garrett patted his flat stomach. “Then go for a run, and eat there too. Save a dance for me.”

Someone didn’t mind making plans in advance.

***

The studio had rented a private room off the main dance floor in a country-western themed bar. The place smelled like spilled beer and hay overlaid with fog from the fog machine. The cast, crew, and their dates packed the place. The vibe of the room was excitement. Work had finished, and filming was done.

Everyone wore country-influenced clothes except Garrett. He wore his blue and green kilt. “Hey, Ashley. Dance?” Garrett pulled her onto the dance floor. He was too tall for her, but Garrett did a mean waltz, and he ended it with a dip so deep her head nearly touched the floor. When she lifted her eyes, her gaze met Caz’s glare.

Caz stood on the sidelines with Petra beside him, whispering in his ear.

So, Caz came. Ashley looked back to Garrett. “Thanks for the dance.”

“We’ll have to try it again, darling.” Garrett released her hands slowly. “Or we could grab a bite to eat? They have a snack area. It’s just miniatures, though, but I saw chocolate puffs.”

Ashley smiled noncommittally and took the time-honored easy way out. She scooted around him, off a side exit, and entered the women’s room.

Olive stood inside, dressed in denim, replacing the lid on a small pill bottle. “Headache.” Olive tightened the lid. “Because I work so much.” She stomped out.

Grateful she hadn’t asked for a temple rub, Ashley used the facilities, washed up, and went to the door. After she left the restroom, Garrett caught up to her again. “This is a great wrap party, reminds me of one Hogmanay in Edinburgh.”

“What’s that?”

Olive scooted around him and handed a drink to Ashley. “Here, Caz requested this. I’d take it but you know how he is.”

Ashley looked at the glass. Really? Work was over and she was still expected to carry his drinks? Garrett reached for the glass, but Ashley had her own agenda. She moved away, taking the drink over to Caz.

He said, “Thanks.”

Petra waved her hands in the air, demonstrating an audition she’d done. Diamonds sparkled on each of her fingers, and the fringe on her tight white suede cowgirl dress danced with each exaggerated gesture. The rhinestones on her matching white boots flashed with her accompanying stomps. “The part is a bikini-wearing ski instructor who is half mermaid, and she saves her students from Ukrainian bad guys.” Petra put her hands on her small waist and grinned. “I won the most coveted part in Hollywood. I start shooting next week.”

“The most coveted,” Olive said. “You’ll look great in an ocean film.”

“I know. And it’s shooting here in LA.” Petra squealed. “No out of town, out of touch for me. I’ll be here, where I can be around all the great shops and industry people.”

Caz said, “You don’t want a break?”

Petra widened her eyes and twisted her mouth. While shaking her head, she caught sight of the AD. “Yoo-hoo, have I told you—” Petra chased after him.

Caz looked at Ashley. “Dance with me.”

“No.”

Caz took a drink. “Please?”

“Maybe.”

“I want you to.” Caz downed the drink, then set the glass on a nearby table. He grabbed her hand and tugged her out onto the dance floor.

As they weaved through the couples, Ashley said, “How much have you had to drink?”

Caz peered at her through glassy eyes from beneath his untidy hair. “One.”

Once they were in the middle of the floor, Caz positioned Ashley in front of him, took a step toward her, ran two hands down the side of her hair, and stepped back. It was unlike any two-step she’d ever done. She couldn’t tell if he danced this way because he was European, or drunk, or both, but his movements were weird.

“That’s not how you two-step.”

Caz moved closer and danced to the left. “Why were you dancing with him?” He glared at Garrett.

She ignored the question, concentrating on his continued misinterpretation of the country and western dance. “I’ll show you how.” Ashley took his left hand with her right one and held it up.

Caz looked at the paired couples circling the dance floor around them. He placed his right hand against the back of her blue silk camisole and pulled her close. She put her left hand on his shoulder and pushed back a bit. Caz resisted her attempts to lead and they ended up in a type of junior-high clench, his arms around her waist, hers around his neck. Her boots saved her feet from his missed steps.

The position actually worked nicely as the song changed into the movie’s romantic theme, “Love’s Romantic Ruin.” The lights dimmed even darker and ceiling disco balls rotated, creating circles of light that highlighted their steps on the dance floor. “Our song,” Caz said.

Ashley relaxed in his arms.

He slid one hand against her jean-clad hips and one around her waist. He bent his head toward her. “I’m not having it,” his deep voice said into her ear. Then he jerked his head toward Garrett.

“It’s cute that you think you get an opinion,” Ashley said.

“You’re myassistant.”

“We’ve discussed this. No, I’m not.” She’d seen her fair share of party drunks back home. It wasn’t an attractive look as a rule.

Caz pulled her close to him and spoke intently in French as if she could understand. She could only catch one in four words, thanks to last year’s French Two. There was a big difference between slow and clear classroom French and actual conversational French. “You know I can’t understand you, right?”