Prescott ended the call and any thoughts of finding another actress to connect with. He’d carefully avoided any romantic commitments this entire year, keeping dates to one-night events and eschewing the Hollywood social scene. His ex had done the exact opposite, including getting herself kicked out of bars and fired from her last film set. No wonder she’d amped up her attempts to get his attention—he’d only ever been a celebrity ticket to her.
If he were to ever get involved with another woman again, as more than a sexual interest, it wouldn’t be with a celebrity.
That had to be why the image of the redheaded runner kept flitting through his mind. She’d been attractive, mysterious, and he hadn’t recognized her as anyone involved in the industry.
Prescott didn’t believe in fate.
He looked around the view of the resort property from his balcony and absorbed as much of the good nature vibes as he could. A small movement in one of the trees caught his eye and he set his mug down, intent to spy a bear or large raptor. It was impossible to tell what he’d noticed from this far away, though, as the tree line began a full half mile from the The Chateau.
Who was he kidding? The tight knot of apprehension in his gut hadn’t loosened since Ariella had begun her constant attempts to reconnect with him. Now he was getting paranoid, feeling as though she was around every corner, in each dark shadow that crossed his path. She didn’t have the money to travel here, much less stay in Roaring Springs during the film festival.
No matter how much he tried to approach his anxiety with logic, it never left. Ariella had done more than scar his heart—she’d taught him that you never really knew a person even after you’d lived with them.
The rest of Phoebe’s morning went as planned, with several short meetings with the event staff and regular team to ensure everyone knew what was expected of them. She’d gotten through the ballroom meeting with Mara and told her mother that Skye had texted her back. But she didn’t tell her mother exactly what her twin had said, hoping to delay Mara’s descent into festival madness.
At ten minutes past noon, however, there was no more stalling. Skye still hadn’t answered back and was nowhere in sight. So she’d been forced to spill the beans to her mom.
Phoebe gritted her teeth. She was going to make Skye pay the next time she saw her. Maybe for that nice pair of leather-strap sandals she’d been eyeing in The Chateau’s boutique. They were still expensive with their employee discount, but since Skye’s departure at the worst time for the festival meant maximum distress for Phoebe, she figured it was the least her sister could do.
However, for now, she had to survive her mother’s attempts at making her look like her twin.
“Hold still.” Mara waved a pair of very sharp shears too close to Phoebe’s eyes.
“Please, Mom, let Amber do it.” They were in The Chateau’s spa, and Mara had actually canceled a regular client’s standing appointment so that Amber could fit Phoebe in. Mara’s dismissal of a client’s needs underscored the absolute necessity for the festival to go off without a hitch.
“I’ve got it.” Amber, the spa’s most congenial employee, took the scissors from Mara and motioned for Mara to stand back. She smiled at Phoebe, her white teeth stunning against her dark skin. “We’ll have you Skye-a-fied in no time.” They’d let Amber in on what had to happen. It would be bad PR for word to get out that Skye was out of the area for any reason, and most importantly, Mara didn’t want it to be discovered that Skye had been dumped in such a shoddy manner. To avoid in-depth explanations, it was easiest to let Phoebe play Skye for the immediate future. With so little time and such huge stakes at hand, there was no choice. Although Phoebe would have preferred to keep Mara’s shenanigans on the covert side. If she was going to commit a huge deception, she didn’t want everyone to know about it.
“This is crazy. It’ll never work. And Skye’s going to show up at any minute.” Her voice sounded a lot more confident than she felt.
“We can’t count on that, Phoebe.” Mara spoke as Amber snipped away at her crimson locks, the same shade as her twin’s but much longer and straighter. Phoebe wore her hair long and sleek and couldn’t be bothered to blow-dry and curl it for the time it took Skye to get her perfectly natural-looking hairdo to fan perfectly around her face and shoulders. She watched her sodden locks drop onto the protective salon cape that draped from her shoulders and she wanted to scream.
“It’s official. I’m going to kill my sister.”
“This isn’t the time to talk like that.” Mara’s quick admonishment made Phoebe cringe. Her mother had been through enough and had the weight of the festival launch event on her shoulders. “It’s only the first day of the festival, and after you cover the press conference and gala red carpet, Skye will no doubt come waltzing in and take over the rest of the week.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, Mom. Ow!” Sharp pains ran from her skull to her nape as Amber used a wide-tooth comb on the back of her hair.
“Sorry, hon, but you’ve got a snag back here.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just cut away. As long as we got the long ponytail in one piece to donate for children’s wigs, I don’t care what you have to do now.” Phoebe had been meaning to cut her hair for the last several months and she’d found a charity that accepted long lengths to make wigs that helped out kids going through chemo treatments.
“You’re a champ for doing this for us on such short notice, Amber.” Mara at least had the decency to look apologetic to the hairstylist. As if reading Phoebe’s thoughts, she turned her gaze back to her in the mirror. “You, too, sweetheart. I know you’re already swamped with all the extra business this month.”
“You’re the one who trained me, Mom. Stepping up is what a Colton does.” Besides, most of what she did was via financial software. Once she set up an event, the invoices usually tracked pretty seamlessly. Automatically. Unlike today, so far.
“We can’t afford to make a public mistake. Not with the reservations down and the bad news trying to stomp out the good PR we planned for the festival.”
“I understand, I really do. It’ll work out, Mom. It always does.” Phoebe tried to reconcile the image that emerged with each cut of Amber’s shears to her response. Skye was naturally upbeat and would have sat here laughing at their mom’s concerns, cheering her up in a flash, unlike Phoebe, who considered herself more like a quiet strength in the family.
Maybe being Skye for a bit wouldn’t be so bad. It might break her out of the social and dating rut she’d been in over the past few months.
“Are the biggest actors here yet?” Phoebe didn’t think she’d be able to pull a real Skye move and personally introduce herself to the key players ahead of the gala, but she did want to be prepared.
“Not officially.” Mara watched as Phoebe transformed into Skye. Amber had started to blow-dry her hair using a ridiculously huge round brush, and both Mara and Phoebe were shouting over the dryer’s roar.
“But?”
Mara shrugged as she watched Amber brush out a long length of hair close to Phoebe’s temple and curl it backward, aiming the dryer nozzle to set the curl. “Several have checked in under their assumed names.”
“Do we have Mr. Sherlock Holmes or Ms. Elizabeth Bennett here?”
“No, nothing that obvious.”
“Mom? Who is it?” It wasn’t like Mara to be cagey or without information she could trust Phoebe with.
“The lead.”