Page 31 of Resisting Isaac

And that shouldn’t sting.

But it does.

Ivy gives me a big smile as a tall ginger-haired man with a beard claps his hands to get our attention then turns to a sleeker looking man with slicked back ink-black hair.

“Everyone,” the sleeker man says, “I’m Wes Mercer.” He pauses, makes eye contact with each of us as if his name should trigger recognition. It doesn’t. Not for me, anyway. But up until now I’ve only worked on indie films and a few Hallmark movies. “I’m the producer and production managerfor all intents and purposes,” he continues before gesturing to the red-haired man beside him. “This is my assistant, Ben, he’ll be checking in with each of you regularly.” Ben offers a small wave.

Next, a man with jaw that could cut glass in what looks like GQ magazine styled a cowboy shoot outfit, steps forward. He’s styled like someone in his twenties but the lines at the corners of his eyes, along with a graying goatee and twinges of gray at his temples, betray the façade.

“I’m Darren Hawk, and I’ll be directing,” the blonde man says with a nod. “And this is my assistant, Mikayla.” A petite blonde steps out from behind him. She’s pretty in a surreal way, like either God or surgery made every feature on her perfectly symmetrical. I don’t know why but I glance over to see if Isaac checks her out. She’s so tiny I could fit her in my pocket. But her boobs are full and perky, peeking out of the low-cut pale pink tank top she wears.

Isaac is more focused on the ranch hands, who are absolutely eye-fucking assistant Barbie.

I force myself not to care if Isaac is into her. Even if her smile is as blinding as the sun and her ass looks like quarters would bounce off it.

In unrelated news, I am going to find the nearest gym and also run six miles to make up for the half a dozen cookies I ate in the middle of the night.

I tune back in to the producer talking again just as he says, “various sound technicians and stunt coordinators will also be on location while you complete your training.” He leaves out the words “studio-mandated” but I hear it. He continues to tell us that they’ll just be checking in on us and on the location to figure out logistics for filming, but the subtle subtext is clear.

They’ll be checking up on us, making sure we’re completing the required training and complying with all regulations and restrictions of the contracts we signed.

Between them and the half a dozen other actors who make introductions, I lose sight of Isaac Logan.

“Okay, people,” calls Darren, clapping his hands once introductions have all been made. “Let’s gather in, yeah? Introductions. Vibes. Cowboy shit. Let’s get it.”

This guy. I can tell he’s out of his element, but I appreciate his effort and enthusiasm.

I step forward with the rest of the cast as he says our names for everyone. Eli James sidles up beside me, giving off equal parts charm and pure terror as his eyes flick toward the stables.

“Don’t suppose you’d volunteer to ride the horse for me during filming?” he murmurs.

I smirk. “Only if I get your paycheck.”

“Fair.” He grins, reaches out a hand, and I shake it. “Eli James.”

“Elena Ortega.” I mock roll my eyes. “Everyone with a pulse knows who you are, but I appreciate that you’re still humble enough to introduce yourself.”

He looks both amused and surprised. Does this man not have the internet or ever pass a rack of magazines?

Before I can ask a single question, we’re herded into a loose circle and sorted into groups for training. Mine includes Eli, Nora Benson, who’s playing his on-screen mom, and Kyle Kenworth, who’s playing his brother. Joining our small group are two actresses cast as his sisters: blonde Liliana Brooks and a brunette named Kendra-something I didn’t catch. There’s also an older male actor I vaguely recognize, says he’s playing the ranch foreman. Just as we all begin making awkward but polite small talk, IsaacLogan appears from nowhere and steps between Eli and me.

“Kids,” he begins with a slow drawl, “I’m Isaac and you’ll be with me for the next six weeks.” He nods toward the stables between us and a large barn. “We’ll meet there at seven every morning, train until we break for lunch, then we’ll resume until we lose daylight.”

Eli clears his throat, then introduces himself to Isaac the same way he did to me before saying, “I was told I’d be spending additional hours at the Triple Creek Equestrian Center.”

Part of me feels sorry for him and part of me is jealous. I looked it up online and it’s beautiful. Peaceful.

Isaac nods. “Training with my sister, Willow. Yes, I heard. God help you.” His words are teasing but his tone is dead serious.

Eli’s eyes go wide, and I barely stifle a laugh. I’d like to meet this Willow as soon as possible.

“I’ll be there in the mornings,” Eli tells us. “My schedule says a.m. training at the center and then p.m. training here.”

Isaac checks something in his phone then levels a sympathetic stare at Eli. “Yeah, uh, unfortunately for you, Willow says you’ll need to be there at six a.m. if you want her to work with you. So, you’ll be starting an hour earlier than everyone else.”

Eli nods. “No problem. I need the extra training. I’m grateful she was able to make time for me.”

His positive attitude and obvious work ethic relieves some of the stress from Ivy telling me he hadn’t ridden before.