Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy by Susan Hammond

director who meant it when he said no. He would have let her walk. And he would have been right to do it.”
    Ali’s wheels were turning. “Do you want to direct? I bet you’d be good at it.”
    “Sure. Me and the other 2,784,000 people who drive by the Hollywood sign every day. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
    “How does someone get to be a director?”
    “Different ways. Most boil down to knowing somebody that knows somebody, like most things in this business.” Tell her . He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone except Josh, but he wanted to tell her. “I might have a shot at something soon.”
    She stopped walking and turned to face him. “What?”
    “Just…a director I’ve worked with a couple of times pitched me a vague story idea. I liked it, ran with it on spec. When I sent it over a couple of weeks ago…” Ben glanced over her shoulder. “I threw in a note that said I’d like to assist. Wednesday I got a call from his office. Nothing definite but I guess it’s a strong maybe.”
    “Ben! That’s, that’s…that’s big.”
    He shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel.
    “What does assist mean? What would you be doing?”
    “I have no idea. Anything from de facto co-directing to talking to the extras to arranging cross-country transportation.” He raised his eyebrows. “I might get to say ‘Quiet on the set.’”
    “No, I’m serious.”
    “So am I. The first AD—assistant director, not to be confused with the Assistant to the Director—is the one that says that. The job is kind of an underpaid mash-up of gofer, drill sergeant, and army logistics tech. And it’s still a long shot. So we’ll see.” He tugged on a wayward curl and pulled her around to start walking again. “ If this works out, I’ll tell you all about it in excruciating and boring detail.”
    “Boring? I doubt it. Remember you’re talking to someone with three weather apps on her phone.”
    He stopped almost in mid-stride and bit back a smile as he turned her to face him. “Did you just call yourself boring?”
    “Yep, boring as a weather a…oh.”
    Ben glanced around, tugged Ali into the dark, recessed entry of the book store, and maneuvered her until her back was against the wall. She was talking so fast her words ran together. “I was only remarking on facts. I mean compared to writing movies and hanging out with stars and directing and, and…”
    He rested his forearms on either side of her head. “You can keep talking, sweetness, but however you spin it, you just lost a bet. Thirteen is feeling like my lucky number.”
    His lips brushed across hers, silencing her rationalizations. When he felt her tremble and open her mouth, he pushed inside, reigniting their hallway kiss as easily as a smoldering ember. One hand dropped to the back of her thigh and brought it to his hip. When he felt her leg wrap around him, his hands went to her bottom and lifted her up, cradling his length against her. “Do I feel bored to you?”

Chapter 11
     
    “This isn’t about the bet, is it? About teaching me to stop saying those things.”
    Ben didn’t answer, but his hold on her tightened, and he turned around, reversing their positions. Leaning against the wall, he let her slide down his body until she was standing, his hands at her waist steadying her.
    He was searching her face for answers, but she didn’t know the questions. Finally he spoke. “No. It’s not.” He pulled her closer. “I don’t like hearing you talk about yourself that way. More, I hate that you doubt yourself. It’s…it’s not you, Ali. You’ve never doubted yourself. And somehow I think I’m hearing your jackass ex in those putdowns and not because of the break up. But you’re an adult. An intelligent, competent woman. You’ll figure it out. You don’t need me—or anybody else—to be daddy.”
    “So you’re not—”
    He interrupted her, not trying to hide a small smile. “I didn’t say that. But when I do, it’ll be all