Free Torn by Christina Brunkhorst Page A

promised to think about it. We revisit the subject every once in awhile.”
    Wanting to change the subject, Chelsea picked up her sandwich and brought it towards her mouth. “What about you? Any kids in your future?” she asked, taking a satisfying bite.
    Trying to hide his wince, Tyler shrugged, took a small handful of chips as he stared out of the side window of the trailer. He ate them before replying. “I don’t know.”
    To Chelsea, they were the three saddest words she’d ever heard. “You don’t know?” It was her turn to lean back against the bench. “That surprises me.”
    He flashed her a look, a quick glow of cobalt, before glancing away to look out the tall, narrow window. “How so?”
    She sighed, dipped an index finger in the cold, wet ring left by her soda can. Making squiggles on the counter top with the moisture, she said, “I always figured you to be a ‘family guy’ for some reason. Even back when we first met, when I was seventeen and asking for your autograph. There was just, I don’t know. An aura about you or something, that to me, meant this is a guy who’d make a fantastic dad someday. The husband women wished for in the delivery room, the one who made all the other fathers-to-be look bad in Lamaze class.”
    In spite of the gloom that settled on his shoulders, Tyler laughed, suddenly picturing himself exactly as Chelsea described. “I’d kick ass,” he agreed, “in the bringing the pillows department. Plus,” he flexed his fingers, bringing Chelsea’s attention to the long, tanned, strong-looking digits. “I’m killer at giving massages. I could even quit my day job if I were so inclined.”
    The room, and his breath, suddenly stilled, as Chelsea’s eyes riveted on those hands, then lifted to meet his. Silence stretched and the air inside the trailer thickened as Tyler and Chelsea stared at each other. Something, deep, silent, and connected passed through them; Tyler knew she felt it at her quick intake of breath. Her eyes flickered to her finger where “Tina’s” rose gold wedding band shone in the fading light, to where his ring should have been, as his eyes followed. In costume, their personal rings didn’t have the look Julie was going for.
    A rap on the door sounded before a sound guy stuck his head in. “Ty? Julie’s decided to shoot Tina and Paul’s scenes first, before she loses the light. Be ready in two.”
    Slowly, Tyler stood and Chelsea followed, her gaze still locked with his, chocolate brown to winter sky blue. Her blink took the moment with it. She walked over to where her petticoats lay on the short, two-seater couch. He turned his back as she wriggled into them, then, at her okay, helped her smooth the overskirt around the crisp material.
    She looked up at him as she hung the blue and white striped apron she’d borrowed back on the wall. “Are you ready?”
    His eyes took on a mysterious glint, and he smiled. “Whenever you are.”
     

 
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    “ A ll right, everyone!” Julie Bishop shouted through her megaphone. “It’s time for supper break, but I want each of you back here in…” She checked her watch. “One hour. So don’t go far!”
    She tossed the megaphone onto the chair behind her. As she stretched, she looked over toward the set and saw her favorite leading man in what appeared to be deep discussion with their stand-in leading lady. Julie couldn’t help but grin. Ty Benson and Chelsea Morgan had certainly found their stride in the past nine weeks of filming. They meshed together so well that she could almost believe that they were a couple in a past life. And not just any couple, but the downright annoying, “finish each other’s sentences” kind of couple. That is, if she believed that sort of thing, which of course she didn’t. Happily ever after and soul mates were strictly for the silver screen.
    It hadn’t escaped her attention that Ty –– upon arrival to the set each morning ––immediately