Текст книги "Fever dream"

Автор книги: Elsie Silver

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

“Hey you,” Emmett murmurs, before his eyes fall to Theo. His cheeks go red as he looks beyond us and sees my entire family—all staring back at him.

He straightens, looking instantly uncomfortable. The awkwardness is palpable, but Theo must be oblivious, because he’s grinning like a loon.

“Bush, fancy meeting you here.” Theo punches his shoulder in what should be a friendly, playful motion. But I know enough to recognize it as a replica of what Emmett landed on him following his championship win.

“Hey, Julia,” Evan cuts in as he sidles up beside Emmett, tossing a supportive arm over his brother’s shoulder and slicing through any tension in his easygoing way. “Good to see you out and about, not just working all the time.”

I offer him a warm smile before sweeping a hand toward my brother. “Evan, this is my brother, Theo. Theo, this is Emmett’s brother, Evan.”

They shake hands, and I take that moment to peek at Emmett, who’s now the same color as a fire engine. I’m sorry, I mouth to him, referring to the leak. Earlier, I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to read it without being harassed.

He nods, but I can tell he’s upset.

Theo doesn’t seem to notice as he steps back from Evan and rubs his hands together. “Sunday, huh? Big day for the news.”

I elbow him and give him a scolding look. He’s such a little boy sometimes.

We all know what Theo’s referring to, and I breeze past it in the name of polite conversation. “What are you guys up to today? Or do you have big family plans?”

Evan picks up on my strategy and jumps in smoothly. “Em was having a rough morning, so I decided to turn his day around with ice cream after breakfast before Parker could get to him with her bourbon.”

“I’m doing fine,” Emmett says while shooting his brother an annoyed look. “How are you guys?”

Theo makes a show of cupping his ear. “Oh, weird. Jules, I hear this annoying buzzing in my ear, but isn’t this too early to be mosquito season?”

I groan, and from several feet away I hear Winter do the same before she mutters, “Good god, that’s such a dad joke.”

Emmett doesn’t let the snark bother him. In fact, he seems more comfortable with verbal sparring than with making fake small talk. “Don’t worry, Theo. If I were going to suck someone’s blood, it wouldn’t be yours.”

My brother gives him a cocky wink. “Oh, yeah, Emmett? Whose would it be? One of the ten girls getting paid to date you?”

To his credit, Emmett laughs. But then he comes closer, brushing his shoulder against Theo’s, using those extra couple of inches to his advantage when he bends to murmur in his ear. “Nah. It’d definitely be your sister’s.” With that, he tosses me a wink and strides away, calling out, “Later, Jules.”

“Come to family breakfast again soon, Julia!” Evan adds casually before he follows behind Emmett, a thoroughly amused tilt to his lips.

Theo’s mouth opens as though he’s going to try to get the last word in, but I think he’s too shocked to keep up. Instead, he says, “Please tell me you aren’t giving that sleaze the time of day.”

“He’s been nothing but polite.” Okay, that’s a stretch, but there’s always a playful edge to Emmett. I feel nothing but safe with him, and I have stellar qualifications to judge if a guy is a true sleaze. “And I adore his family.”

“Ha! Your professionalism knows no bounds. Good for you for toeing the line when we both know he’s a raging douchebag. You’re a better person than I.”

I don’t respond to that. It’s not the time or the place.

In line, Theo recounts another unpleasant story about Emmett on the road as we place our order and take our number, but I’m not really listening.

Instead, I’m worrying about the man in question.

When we get back to the table with everyone’s ice creams, Theo shoots me a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry that you have to work with him every day.”

And he means it. There’s a genuine apology in his voice, but I don’t feel right accepting it.

So I just shrug and pull out my phone to check if the bar owner has texted me. Again.

And he has.

Relief courses through me as I type my response and mutter, “He’s not as bad as you make him out to be.”

Theo laughs at me right as Harvey starts to fuss. It draws his attention away, and I wince, realizing what I’ve just said out loud.

But when I look back up from my phone, it’s my mom and Winter who are both eyeing me up with matching quirked brows.

Looks like they heard me loud and clear.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 25

Emmett

I STAND IN THE middle of The Ranch, watching the crew as they set up cameras for the episode. It smells like Lysol, and cheesy western-themed art hangs on the walls. The entire place is straight-up… cowboy cosplay.

Hell, the patrons are even dressed like it’s Halloween, though I’m sure the vast majority of them never stepped foot on a ranch in their lives. I can tell by their boots. Just a little too much polish, no lines in the leather from wear. Barely broken in. They attempt to act natural, like they’re just enjoying their night, while we set up in a cordoned area.

But mostly they gawk.

I pat myself on the back for not ruining The Sugar Saloon with this shit. The fact that I already fucking hate this place makes being here a little easier. But it doesn’t stop me from beating myself up for volunteering for this exercise in embarrassment.

It’s for the money, I remind myself again. Because that’s the only thing keeping me going at this point.

I groan and turn toward the bar, thinking a drink might help take the edge off.

Seeing that the drink special tonight is “Pornstar Shots” fills me with dread. And nausea. I turn away and see Dick Wad chatting with Teri. His loud laugh is like nails on a chalkboard—it’s the same one he’d hit me with when I confronted him about how my name got leaked.

I turn again. The women giggle from their rounded booth on the corner of the dance floor, shooting furtive glances my way. The kind that make me want to run until my legs give out.

I glance longingly at the front door, seriously considering my options. Ever since the news got wind of this, I’ve been dreading filming.

It’s for the money.

Then light slices through the dark bar as the door opens. Julia walks into The Ranch looking like she owns the fucking place. A denim dress paired with flat strappy sandals and those curls out in full force have me standing and staring with a dry mouth.

Because while I hate everything about this moment, I very much do not hate her.

Still, a part of me wishes she weren’t here, watching me do this thing. I wish I weren’t so damn tangled up over her.

But I am. And we’re both skirting the issue.

At the ice cream shop, I was immediately excited to see her. Then reality had sunk in. I’d immediately felt awkward as hell at our unexpected encounter and then covered for it by antagonizing her brother like a cocky teenager.

Overall, Julia Silva has me acting like a feral dog, and I’m at a loss for how to get myself back under control.

I never wanted this—I specifically never wanted to feel like this.

But I do. And it stresses me the fuck out.

I scrub a hand over my face, wiping the light dusting of perspiration from my forehead as Richard greets the table of daters. They all brighten at his approach, except Catherine, who eyes him as though he might be a secret serial killer.

And who knows? At this point I wouldn’t put it past the guy.

“So tonight…” He launches into how he wants the episode to play out, and I have to work to keep my eyes from rolling as I listen in on the directions he’s giving them. Jada must be on the same page because she glances over her shoulder at me before subtly lifting her hand and miming a dramatic yawn—clearly she’s hating this too. And it doesn’t surprise me at all that the women are figuring out that this might be the least organic dating show of all time. The women are coached and produced endlessly, and I’m awkward as hell in front of the cameras.

Plus, right now, all I can think about is Julia.

The scent of her perfume hits me as she approaches. My gaze trails the line of silver buttons climbing from the hemline of her dress to the neckline where the tops of her breasts swell subtly.

Images flash in my mind. My hand on her chest. My fingers making quick work of those buttons. Who am I kidding? Those look like too much work. I’d tug that dress up and get right to making her scream my name.

“Emmett.” She nods her head in a casual greeting, as if we didn’t share the most memorable kiss of my life. Which is saying something because, well, it’s not as though I’ve been precious about the women in my life.

But something tells me that kiss will be the standard that everyone else will fall short of.

“Jules,” I murmur, playing it equally cool. Especially since Richard has turned to watch us. I hope to god he didn’t see me eye-fucking her from across the bar.

“Julia,” he announces. “Good. You’re here. Paperwork all signed?”

He quirks a condescending brow at her, and guilt assaults me for changing the bar without telling her. But I’d spent two nights tossing and turning over the time I spent with her at The Sugar Saloon. And try as I might, I couldn’t convince myself it was nothing. It was a happy little bubble. And I was the one to burst it. But I wanted to be the one to fix it too.

So here we are at the Disneyland of country bars instead.

I can’t explain it, and I don’t want to overanalyze it. I’m just working on instinct—the one that is dragging me kicking and screaming after Julia fucking Silva at every turn.

“Yep! Permits are all set,” she chirps, holding a yellow folder up triumphantly.

He’d dressed her down, but she’d just taken that as a challenge to prove him wrong.

I admire that about her. That drive. That toughness. That’s why her confession about trusting me hit so damn hard. She’d been vulnerable with me, and I’d shut down.

And then I’d kissed her. Like that would fix everything. I scrub a hand over my stubble and groan inwardly, because I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I might as well be stumbling around in the dark for how out of my element I am right now.

Dick Wad claps once before striding toward her. “Attagirl,” he says, leering just enough to make me want to rip his fucking head off. Instead, I settle for meandering in their direction.

He takes the folder and flips it open, thumbing through the pages and nodding. “Good. Well, Emmett, you’ve got a date set with Evelyn during the top three week at an art gallery and then another, where you’ll go zip-lining, and you can take whoever you want.”

I cross my arms, growing tired of Richard’s obsession with Evelyn. “Top three week? I haven’t even made my choice for eliminations tonight.”

The showrunner hits me with a smarmy smile. “Well, taking one out of the mix for entertainment value won’t hurt anything. She stays. End of conversation.”

“That’s a bold—”

“Way for you to make a lot of money?” Richard finishes for me, his expression fully loaded with innuendo. Because unfortunately, he knows how badly my family and I need this extra income.

My molars clamp together, and I force myself not to look at Julia.

“It’s been suggested to the girls that they should try to move their relationship with you to the next level,” Dick Wad continues flippantly.

Relationship.

Laughable.

What’s not funny is that for the first time in my life, guaranteed female attention makes me uneasy.

“So do me a solid and lay some pipe or something. Ha!” He laughs so loudly as he slaps my shoulder that Julia flinches beside me.

“All right,” she interjects without sparing me a single glance. “I’m going to go check in with the manager, make sure everything is in line before we get started.”

As she walks away, I watch. Wishing I could talk to her, but not sure what I’d say. I don’t know what to do in this situation. I’m torn between knowing I need to follow through with this show and not wanting to because… I don’t want to hurt her.

When I tear my eyes away, I find Richard regarding me coolly. “Careful with letting that problem get in the way of the show,” he says. “Or I’ll fix it for you.”

Richard’s threat has had me walking on eggshells all night. I dance with each of the women, feeling more like a marionette than a man. I’m dodging stray hands left and right, and I can tell by the scowl on Dick Wad’s face that my lack of enthusiasm is pissing him off.

I can’t bring myself to look at Julia, though I know she’s here.

Because I’m not an actor. I’m just a guy who has always excelled at keeping things casual. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel casual at all.

It’s fucking confusing.

I’m dancing with Cookie now. She’s been detailing her skincare routine for the past several minutes. I’m pretending to pay attention, while wondering how the fuck I—a world-class athlete—ended up getting paid to dance with a woman named Cookie.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

“Then I have to lock it all in to maintain my moisture barrier, so for that I like to use—”

“My turn,” Evelyn—a.k.a., the fucking worst—cuts in out of the blue.

“This song isn’t over,” Cookie says as she’s jostled back by Evelyn’s shove. “You’ve already had one-on-one time during the hiking date.”

“Right. Which is how I know you’re putting the poor guy to sleep.” Evelyn twists her lips into a cruel smile. “He needs someone with a higher IQ than yours to entertain him.”

I stop, slightly shaken by the aggression in her voice.

Cookie steps forward, eyes blazing as she jabs a finger toward Evelyn. “What the fuck did you just say to me, you uppity bitch?”

Evelyn looks pleased as she crosses her arms. “At least you recognize that I’m superior.”

Cookie’s laughs, incredulous. “You strut around the house bragging about kissing Emmett, bragging about your job. Babe, we all know you’re a fake life coach sponsored by Mommy and Daddy.”

Evelyn’s dark eyes narrow, a spiteful expression morphing her features.

I take another step back.

“No one in their right mind would hire you. You can’t even coach yourself into success. You’re just here to be an actress—but you’ll fail at that, too.”

I hold a fist up to my mouth, stifling the disbelieving laugh that threatens to lurch from my lips. Because, fuck, this is vicious.

I take another step away, just in time to avoid Evelyn’s hand darting out to… yank Cookie’s hair. Then it’s a blur of curses and swinging arms.

It reminds me of Parker and Riley as children. Small, wild, annoying children. And I’m in the middle, an active participant in so many ways. A night that already felt embarrassing has tipped straight into humiliating.

“Ladies!” Akira attempts to push her way between them. “Have a little fucking self-respect. You’re both too good for this!”

But they don’t seem to hear her. They just keep at it.

I watch in horror, jaw slack, hands clasped behind my neck. When I move to intervene, I feel Teri’s hand on my arm. “Not yet,” she murmurs, observing them raptly.

I step away from her to take in the scene before me. The chaos. The spectacle. Women fighting, cameras recording, Richard grinning like a kid on Christmas morning—my self-loathing hits an all-time high.

For the first time in weeks, I give in to the instinct to run. I slip off the dance floor, mostly unnoticed—thanks to the chaos erupting around me—and make a beeline for the front door.

I stride into the night air, past the row of cars out front, and around the corner to a shadowed spot. Quiet surrounds me as I lean against the wall, tip my head back, and let my eyes fall shut, drawing long, slow breaths to ease my rising tension.

Within moments, quick footsteps approach, as though someone is jogging in my direction. They round the corner, and I don’t open my eyes. I’m reverting to that thing little kids do, where they seem to believe that if they can’t see you, you can’t see them.

“Emmett,” Julia’s usually smooth voice practically hisses. “What are you doing? You need to be in there, dealing with this in front of the cameras.” She steps closer, and I smell her. Patchouli and green grass. “Look at me.”

I don’t want to open my eyes because I know how fucking hot she looks in that stupid denim dress, and the minute I lay eyes on her, I’m going to do something I shouldn’t.

Trouble.

She steps closer, nudging the toe of my boot with her foot. “I don’t know what kind of meltdown you’re having at the moment, but you can snap out of it anytime now. Richard is breathing down my neck. He’s got his eye on you and on me. You do know that, right?”

I swallow, squeezing my eyes shut tighter. Yes, I know all of this.

And none of it matters. Not as much as—

“Emmett! This is what you signed up for.” Her voice cracks, and the sound splinters my chest. I can hear the hurt in her tone. “Your family is depending on you. You need this money. You need—”

My eyes snap open. “Need? You know what I fucking need?”

I don’t give her a chance to respond. My hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her slender neck as we collide. I swallow her surprised gasp as I take her mouth.

If our first kiss was tentative or careful, this one is chaos. It’s throwing caution to the wind. It’s need and desperation and regret all wrapped up in one rough package.

Her fists twist in my shirt as though she’d like to shove me away, but instead she pulls me closer.

She kisses me back.

Lips working, tongues tangling—we clash. Behind the world’s lamest country bar, under a moonlit sky, I kiss the only girl in the world I actually want.

My free hand slips up the metal buttons of her dress. I cup her breast, thumb the outline of her nipple through the dense material.

She moans into my mouth as her palms slide over my ribs.

A shiver races down my spine at her touch, the reality of her kissing me back. I’ve never felt lucky to be kissed.

Until now.

I count my lucky fucking stars that Julia Silva is even giving me the time of day.

Gripping her hip, I wedge a leg between hers and push her down onto my thigh. A desperate gasp zips between us when the heat of her cunt presses against me.

“You like that?” I murmur against her damp lips.

She peeks back at me from under heavy lids, then grinds herself against me.

That’s all the assurance I need.

I flip us and press her back against the wall. “Your turn is over, Jules. Now we do this the way I want.” I rock my hips just enough to press my leg against her, watching her eyes flutter shut for a beat. “And what I want is to feel you saddle up and ride m—”

“Hey, Emmett? You out here?” Teri calls out into the parking lot, which freezes us in place.

We’re both panting, drugged eyes turning bright and aware in a matter of seconds. My hands don’t move, but my mind is flying a mile a minute.

“Shit.” I can hear the panic in Julia’s whisper. “I’m so fucked.”

I step away, holding my hands up. I don’t know much, but I know I don’t want to be the reason for her demise.

“Go.”

“What?” She straightens, dusting her hands over her dress.

“Around the back. Go. Get out of here.”

I lean in to drop a quick kiss on her forehead and stride away, not wanting Teri to get around the corner and see Julia.

Then I call back, “Be right there!” as I walk straight back into the fire without a second thought. Something that is out of character for me, because I am certainly not known for my selflessness in most circles.

As I walk, I consider the number of times I’ve put someone else’s comfort ahead of my own.

And I realize that outside of my immediate family, I haven’t.

I’ve always rationalized that I suffered quite enough early in life. That now, as an adult, I’m entitled to avoid it at all costs.

Which is weird. Because for her? I’d burn.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 26

Julia

WHEN EMMETT LEAVES, I creep in the opposite direction. I follow the perimeter of the building and decide my best next step.

I’m not required on set tonight since the bar requires no further prep. I delivered the paperwork to Richard, checked in with the manager, and made sure that everything to do with Romance Ranch was in order for filming. I can easily be available by phone.

I’m just rubbernecking at this point.

It’s like I can’t look away. I don’t need to stay and spend hours watching women squabble over a guy that I’ve come to… I don’t even know.

Want? Because wanting him feels surprisingly good. Like fucked-up as this all is, craving someone is breathing life back into parts of me that I thought might be just… gone.

Is like the right word? It feels bland and childish for whatever is happening between us. Which is a problem.

I make a beeline for my car on the opposite side of the parking lot, deciding that getting the hell out of Dodge is the best answer to my problems. Strapped into the driver’s seat, I wrap my hands around the wheel to pull away.

But I come up short of starting the engine. I’m torn between wanting to walk back in there and help Emmett and the sinking sensation in my stomach that tells me I don’t want to see whatever is going on in there.

I trust my gut, start my car, and drive away from the set. Pulling out, I turn right. It’s not the way home or the way back to Stal Brandt. It’s just one random way to go. And I spend the next couple of hours driving around the valley, stopping at a few of my favorite spots, including my dad’s gravesite.

I never got to know him that well, and in some ways it’s hard to navigate how I feel about his passing. It’s difficult to miss what you never had. But if nothing else, visiting my dad brings me solace.

I’ve heard wonderful stories about him, seen the impact that he had on my brother and on my mom—a woman who has entertained brief relationships but who I don’t think will ever truly move on.

So he seems as good a person as any to confess my confusion to.

I sit on the dry earth and talk to him. “Well, Dad. I got the dream first job. The one that steers me straight down the path to that big-time movie job you convinced me I could do if I set my mind to it. But I… I’m worried I’m going to fuck it all up.”

With a dark chuckle, I run my palms over the bristly grass in front of his headstone. Then I blurt it all out.

I tell him about the cruise ship and Emmett. I tell him about Emmett’s reputation and the tension between him and Theo. I tell him about the quiet hours spent chatting at the diner. I tell him about the kiss. I tell him about the bitter jealousy that swirls inside of me as I’m forced to watch Emmett navigate this show.

I tell my dad details that most daughters probably wouldn’t, but he’s dead, so what the fuck ever.

Hell, I get really comfortable and even tell him about the prickles in my ass and the boner episode that followed.

Getting it all off my chest leaves me more centered. Like I’ve gained some perspective. Like the pressure in my lungs that made me feel as though I was about to explode has finally dissipated a bit.

It’s also left me hungry. Which is why I trudge back to my car, hop in, and head straight to the diner. It’s never too late for an omelet.

I weave through the darkened streets of Emerald Lake until I pull up in front of Martha’s Diner. As I step out of my car, the neon sign on the roof hums, filling the air. One deep inhale of the dusty parking lot comforts me. It urges me forward. I yank the door open with a jingle, and Martha’s head snaps up from behind the cash register.

“Wasn’t sure you were coming in tonight, but that boy of yours is waiting already.”

“Boy of mine?” I ask, confused for a moment.

She winks at me. “Right over there, doll. Table in the corner. The one with the curly hair? He’s not dressed like a cowboy businessman tonight. And honestly?” Her tone turns wistful as she glances in his direction. “If I had to switch teams…” she says with a raspy chuckle.

My gaze lands on Emmett sitting in the corner booth at the back of the restaurant. “Yeah.” I breathe the word.

Because I know exactly what she means. He has that effect on women. Or maybe it’s just that I’m thrown off Emmett’s here. At my place. Waiting for me.

“You all right, Julia?”

“I don’t know,” I confess to her, eyes still on Emmett. “I’m worried I might be in the process of making a very big mistake.”

“Good,” Martha startles me by saying. “You’re about due for some mistake-making. You know Danielle and I love having you here every night. But, baby, that’s not healthy. Two middle-aged women shouldn’t be your only friends in the world. And I for one am glad to see you’re not isolating yourself so much. You’re young. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. Life is messy, stop being a germophobe.”

A sad laugh pitches from the back of my throat. I have been isolating myself and I’m not even sure I noticed it happening. I got scared and I went into hiding. Now the thought of emerging from the safety of my burrow feels… daunting.

“He’s already got two menus over there for you, doll. Go make that mistake. I bet that man could teach you a thing or two. Plus, look at those forlorn little puppy eyes. Go put him out of his misery.”

I peek over at him, and sure enough. Those emotive baby blues are latched on to me. Practically begging me to come closer. I give Martha a quick smile, and a side hug, murmuring, “Thank you for the pep talk,” before walking away.

Wishing things were as simple as the wise woman seems to think.

I weave through the long, narrow diner. Emmett’s face lifts to take me in as I draw near.

“Hey,” I say cautiously.

He smiles, but it’s pinched and doesn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t know if you were going to show up.”

“How long have you been waiting here?” I pause near the booth as he shrugs and looks out the window.

“I don’t know. An hour? Maybe two?”

Two hours.

I was sitting at my dad’s gravesite, chatting away, spilling my guts, and Emmett was sitting here waiting. Hoping that maybe—just maybe—I’d show up.

“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me? Or something?”

“Left my phone on the table at the bar after we finished recording for the night. Didn’t feel like going back in once I’d made my way out. I’ll get it tomorrow.” He waves a hand across the air in front of him dismissively. “You going to sit down or just stand there gawking at me like an awkward weirdo?”

I chuckle, because I am standing here like an awkward weirdo. Thrown off by his presence. Confused that he’d wait an hour for me, somewhere he wasn’t even sure I would be.

Honestly, I’m confused that he’s looking for me at all.

I slide into the seat across from him and reach for the menu. Ridiculous, since I know it by heart, but I need something to do with my hands so that I don’t fiddle with my fingers until they knot themselves together.

I’m nervous. Nervous because one kiss can be a mistake. A one-off. But I’ve never heard of a two-off. Which means this might be a bad habit we’re developing.

Martha shows up with a cup of piping hot coffee before I can get a word in edgewise. She refills Emmett’s, and he doesn’t stop her. Which is funny, considering mere weeks ago he thought drinking coffee at night was crazy.

“All right, two Julia omelets for two lovebirds,” she singsongs with a teasing giggle, forcing me to groan and tip my head back in embarrassment. Someone should let Martha know this is just a two-off.

But when I look back up, Emmett has a touch of a smile on his face. He doesn’t correct her. Instead, he just stares at me.

It’s unnerving, so I reach for the coffee, letting the warm liquid bolster my confidence as I prepare to tell Emmett that this cannot become a three-off.

But he beats me to the punch, masking his point with a teasing tone. “Julia, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have to stop kissing me.”

I bark out a laugh and lean back against the red vinyl bench. “Oh, is that how it is? I have to stop kissing you.”

“Yes, it’s absolutely out of control. I understand—I do. You’re obsessed with me. And I can’t blame you.”

I run a hand over the back of my head, grinning like a fool. He has a way of putting me at ease that no one else can accomplish.

“It’s funny how two people can be present at the same event and remember it so differently.”

He shrugs, hitting me with a cocky smile. “All I remember is you shoving your tongue down my throat and riding my leg like I was your favorite pony.”

“Emmett!” I squeal, leaning forward, giving his hand an absolutely flirtatious smack.

I know I shouldn’t do it, but god, he makes it so easy.

He reaches for me, fingers sliding over the top of my outstretched hand. We both stare at the point of contact for several seconds before his fingers flex, drawing my attention back up to his face.

“All jokes aside, Jules, we have to be careful.”

I swipe my tongue over the front of my teeth, hating the taste of what he’s just said and knowing it’s true all at once.

“I’m pretty sure Richard’s producing us at this point, or at the very least blackmailing us. Before tonight, he pulled me aside and told me you were proving more difficult than he expected, but that he noticed how responsive you are to me. And so, he asked me to go out of my way to make sure I keep you on track.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I told him I would—”

“Is that what you were doing outside the bar? Keeping me on track? Because you waltzing around in that little denim dress with your hair all wild and free only makes me want to break the rules.”

A full-body flush sweeps over me. He’s so… direct.

But I don’t let him distract me. “Emmett, I’m serious. He’s on to us. It’s like he’s keeping tabs. And the fact that the crew and producers just happened to show up at The Sugar Saloon when we were there—it’s weird. I tried to throw him off by mentioning going on a date that Riley set up for me. He told me multiple times that he wants me to report back on how it goes. It was unnerving.”

“Like hell—”

“This is my first job out of school,” I cut him off, because we can’t start crossing those lines. Especially considering he still has several weeks of filming left to go. “This is important for my entire future. I’m barely qualified for this gig. I’ve broken the bank to get these degrees under my belt. I’ve worked long hours and won scholarships, all to make it out without crippling debt. If I leave this job with a black mark on my résumé, it could haunt me forever. And you? You need this. I know you do.”