The Wedding Wager (McMaster the Disaster) (5 page)

Everyone else in the car somehow remained the picture of calm, but I began to scream and flail like there was no tomorrow. In fact, it almost felt like there might not be a tomorrow.

As one can well imagine, a driver can become slightly distracted by a flailing, screaming teenage girl sitting so close to them that they’re touching, and Jeff was no exception. He started to veer slightly to the right, which probably would have been no big deal if I hadn’t chosen that exact moment to fling my leg out as I tried to wrestle the bee out of my hair. My foot landed right on top of Jeff’s… on the gas pedal. We floored it straight for a mailbox on the side of the road.

The instructor said no one had ever done so much damage to a Driver’s Ed. car in the history of the town’s driver education program.

My parents decided to get me private driving lessons rather than through the school after that, and Jeff never got to live down the fact that he was in the driver’s seat when the accident happened, which the instructor so helpfully pointed out meant he was the one responsible, even though I said it was my fault.

Jeff never spoke to me again.

An hour or so later I got up to stretch my legs. Going over a few of the Disaster Diary stories had actually lighted my mood a little, the oldest ones were the easiest to take now. I wondered if they’d all become something of a fond memory one day.

The rain had let up a little—not weather for lounging on the beach, mind you—but it looked like a person could take a decent stroll under an umbrella, anyway.

I bundled up in my alligator print rain boots and a cute rain trench and headed out for the first day of exploring on my own. The rain was actually kind of invigorating, you know, as long as I stayed under the umbrella. If I had actually been getting wet, it might have been a tad more freezing than invigorating.

The market I stumbled upon was more than I could have ever imagined. Even in the rain, so many people were bustling around, vendors making sure their goods stayed dry, and customers haggling for the best price. There were several other American-looking people who smiled at me as I passed, which, even though the locals were absolutely amazing and friendly, still made me feel a little more at home.

The choices were overwhelming as I realized this was my perfect opportunity to impress Jake with my cooking. I mean, not that my cooking was all that impressive or anything, but with ingredients this incredible and fresh, I was sure I could come up with something amazing.

Not sure what to make, I picked up much more than I needed and headed back to the house, weighed down and trudging along much more slowly. The distance back seemed double what it had on the way to the market, but I finally made it with most of the ingredients somewhat dry and the bread still perfect since I’d had it tucked up under my coat for safe keeping.

I spent most of the afternoon perusing the Internet for something to make. I swear, I’d bought a million ingredients, but I seemed to have everything I needed except one thing for almost every recipe I looked at.

Finally I decided on chicken skewers with peanut sauce, rice, and a colorful vegetable medley recipe I found, figuring I could just substitute a few of the spices.

I popped in some traditional Balinese instrumental music I’d picked up and got to work, not sure how long it would take to chop all the veggies and get everything ready for the sauce. The rice I wasn’t too worried about, but the rest of it… well, I looked at it as my chance to hopefully hone a new skill, not to mention maybe impress Jake.

It was weird though, in the movies, when people cook, they seem to somehow make it an all day affair, but it wasn’t really like that. Everything was ready in an hour and Jake wouldn’t be home for a while. It smelled delicious though, and I couldn’t help giving the veggies a taste-test.

It’s interesting how smell and taste don’t always correspond. The vegetables were disgusting. There was no way we could eat them. And now I was out of the ingredients for anything else.

I quickly jotted down the spices the recipe actually called for and set out at a run to the market, praying the things I’d need would still be there and that I could get back in time for Jake.

I made it back with no time to spare and got chopping as fast as I could, which, given my clumsy factor, really wasn’t all that fast at all. I was just getting them on the heat when Jake came in the door, a huge smile on his face.

“Smells great,” he said. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I said, with a sheepish grin.

“Well, it smells fantastic.” He came over and hugged me from behind while I lightly flipped the veggies, adding a pinch of spice here, and a dash of sea salt there.

We were sitting down to eat not ten minutes later, and I was dying inside a little that I hadn’t had a chance to taste-test this time. Good God, what if it tasted just as bad as that last monstrosity?

“I can’t remember the last time I came home to a home-cooked meal.”

I chuckled. “Me neither, actually. Probably when I still lived with my Mom when I was a kid.”

“Me too,” he nodded, taking his first bite.

I cringed a little inside until he let out a satisfying, “Mmm…”

“Is it good?” I couldn’t help but ask, hating how needy it sounded.

“So good,” he said and I let out a whoosh of air I didn’t even know I’d been holding.

I picked up my fork and finally got my taste-test. Jake was right; it actually wasn’t half bad. The chicken was a little dry from having sat warming so long, but with the peanut sauce slathered on it, you could hardly even notice.

I couldn’t believe what a difference the right spices could make.

Not to mention something in the spices seemed to heat up the bedroom more than usual that night too.

I made a mental note to definitely take some cooking classes when we got back home.

~ ~ ~

“Do you really have to go?” I whined playfully, tugging at his shirt.

Jake gave me a confused look, obviously not catching on to the playful part. “Josie, I’m here to work, you know that. I can’t just show up late. I’m a professional.”

I nodded. “I know, I was kidding.”

“Oh,” was all he said, packing a bag for the day.

This iciness was a side of him I’d never seen before. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course everything’s okay,” he barked. “I just… I have to get into the right mode for the work I need to do today. I can’t just be all happy and giggly when I’ve got a serious scene to do.”

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not. You’re just here on vacation. Some of us are here for a reason though.”

It stung more than it probably should have. Jake had never talked to me quite like that before. Of course, like he said, it could probably be chalked up to his tough day, but after last night I just didn’t understand where it was coming from.

Everything had been perfect.

More than perfect.

It was one of the most amazing nights we’d ever had, and now this.

Was this what living with an actor was going to be like? ‘Cause seriously, I did not like it one bit.

I spent the day, much drier thank goodness, wandering around the town and even taking a peek over near the set of the movie. I didn’t get too close, I mean, how embarrassing would it be for Jake’s girlfriend to show up on set, but I wanted to see the location of the filming. I could see immediately why they chose it, with its gorgeous mansion on a cliff with the ocean on three sides crashing up against the steep walls of rock. Very dramatic. Very full of turmoil.

The movie was a serious one, something that Jake hadn’t done a lot of, and I could almost start to see what had him so worked up that morning. With a location as serious as this, the acting had to live up to it.

Personally, I would have loved to see Jake in a million more romantic comedies, but I supposed that might get a little old after a while. Not to mention the female co-stars were often notoriously diva-like. After a couple hours at a cocktail party, I could barely stand some of them, let alone work all day, every day for months with them.

Jake really did have a huge amount of patience for people.

When he got home that night, he was back to his usual self and my shoulders relaxed the moment he walked though the door and said in an over-the-top cheesy way, “Honey, I’m home.”

My heart leapt at the words and it almost felt like we were really living together for a minute. A huge grin spread across my face. “That sounds incredible,” I said, rushing in for a squeeze or two.

He looked around. “Oh, no home cooking tonight?” he asked, seeming genuinely disappointed. “I mean, not that you have to cook for me every day or anything,” he quickly covered.

But I could tell he was a little put out, just a teensy bit.

“Um,” I said, suddenly feeling like a terrible girlfriend. I mean, what else did I have to do all day anyway? I could have come up with something to make. “I’m sorry, I just thought we could go out to eat today.”

He shrugged. “Sure. It’s just that… the locals around here are going crazy over this movie and I thought a little peace and quiet would be nice.” He walked away toward the bedroom. “But I guess you wouldn’t have known that.”

He disappeared into the bedroom and I felt curiously like I had done something wrong. I mean, I’d barely stepped foot into a kitchen until yesterday and suddenly today I was feeling bad for not being Martha Stewart?

I shook the idea out of my head. Jake knew who I was, right? He couldn’t possibly think I was going to turn into some sort of doting housewife all of a sudden, did he? He had to know my career was still going to be important to me and that I wouldn’t always have time to make him dinner every night, right?

I paced the room until Jake finally emerged again, looking as handsome as ever and smelling as fresh as a waterfall.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me in close. “Last night was just so nice… so relaxing. Don’t worry, you don’t have to do that for me. It was just such a nice treat,” he said, looking down. “I secretly hoped you might surprise me again.”

I relaxed into his arms, so thankful. This was the Jake I knew, the one I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

“Don’t worry,” I said, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. “I’ll try to spoil you as much as I can.”

And there it was; the signature grin that made hearts melt across the world, and I got to have him in my own two arms.

Life really was something of a miracle sometimes.

Dining out certainly was much more of a treat for me, even if it wasn’t for Jake. It wasn’t like the cooking was all that hard, but the stress just about did me in, especially after the whole wrong spices incident and rushing around to make a replacement.

Plus, even though Jake disagreed, and my cooking wasn’t too bad, it was certainly nothing spectacular like the seafood extravaganza in front of me.

There were a few onlookers who wouldn’t stop staring, a few others coming up to get pictures with Jake and I could see how it would get annoying after a while. I mean, I got hounded enough to know a person needed a break from that sort of thing, but in the end, the meal was delicious, the time with Jake was always welcome, and we got to sit back to a quiet bottle of wine when we got back to the house.

It was another great evening, thanks to Jake being so accommodating.

Even though I spent a lot of it alone, the rest of the trip was amazing. I felt like I got to really experience the culture, rather than just be shown it, and I even got to see another side of Jake, and while it may not have been his most pleasant side ever, it certainly wasn’t as bad as my scary side could be.

CHAPTER 6

“How was your trip, Miss McMaster?”

“Wonderful, thanks,” I said, smiling at the three paparazzi who greeted me on my return home.

I hadn’t been bothered by them the whole time in Bali and oddly, it was almost like something was missing from my day. I mean, it’s not like I liked them hanging around or anything, but I supposed it was one of those things that you get used to pretty quickly.

“Any big name celebrities in Bali these days?” Andrea asked, with a wink.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Actually no,” I said, surprised a little myself. “Other than the rest of the cast, I didn’t see a single one.”

“Strange, I thought Bali would be a hotspot since that Julia Roberts movie.”

I nodded. “Maybe they’re all on the other side of the island or something.”

“Well welcome home,” Andrea said, sounding completely sincere.

None of the other guys seemed to have any notion to welcome me home. I got the feeling Andrea was completely honest when she told me about how she got her start in the biz, and she also seemed like she just liked people, even the slobby guys she got stuck working beside everyday. In fact, she reminded me just a bit of Bobbi Lynn, one of the other bridesmaids in the crazy lotto that completely changed my life, though admittedly, Andrea was certainly more street savvy.

“Here, let me help you,” Andrea said, grabbing my heaviest suitcase.

The other two photogs looked at her like she had grown an extra eyebrow above her other two. She just shrugged and smiled like it was completely normal that one of the people she was effectively stalking would let her go ahead and take one of their most personal belongings.

And honestly, I didn’t have one bit of concern with her helping me. I mean, what was she going to do? Whip it open and start rummaging through with me standing there? Plus seriously, the thing was damned heavy.

We hauled the luggage up to the apartment, huffing and puffing the whole way. Okay, I was huffing and puffing, Andrea looked like she hauled luggage for a living.

“You work out?” I asked.

“A little Zumba here and there,” she said, not even using the rollers on the case, just toting it along like it was a lunch box.

“I gotta get into that,” I said, noticing how fit she looked in her jeggings and combat boots.

“It gets the heart pumping,” she said, setting the giant suitcase gently in front of my door. “So…” She put her hands on her hips. “You give any more thought to what we talked about in the park?”