Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“It is comfy.” I don’t like how the idea of Reid working late and falling asleep on the couch makes me warm. I don’t like how soft I get when I think about Reid as a child trying so desperately to not make a mess. Kids should be allowed to be messy. “And I love the dining room. The table has a mid-century feel.”
“Because my grandmother bought it in 1956,” he admits. “She died fifteen years ago. This was before our father passed away, and Jeremiah was living with her since dear old dad made it clear we were on our own after we turned eighteen. Luckily, we both had trust funds, and I used part of mine to go to Parson’s. Jer moved in with Grandma halfway through his last year of high school, and he lived in that apartment for several years after she died. Then we inherited this place, and it made more sense for us both to live here than it did to sell it or buy the other out, and when we moved, Jer brought the table with him. Says it makes him feel likes she’s still there, still sitting beside him telling him he needs to eat more.”
I sit up because if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to repeat the mistakes of Ralavia. I toss back the rest of my drink and stand. “Okay, we will be civil and make this work. I promise not to get in your way. I’ll cry silently at the atrocities I’ll be forced to commit in the name of design.”
He stands as well, setting his glass down on the table. I’m surprised he doesn’t have coasters. I would have thought he was a coaster man, but now that I’ve heard his story, I guess he’s not as uptight as he seems. “And I will ignore your silent crying like the asshole I’m known to be.” He sighs. “I don’t suppose we should talk about the whole wild-chemistry thing we have going.”
“Absolutely not.” If there’s one thing I want to avoid, it’s making a fool of myself over this man, and opening the door even a crack will lead to destruction. “We are going to utterly ignore it. It’s a flash fire, and the only thing it could lead to is both of us getting burned.”
“Or if we found a way to tame it, it might keep us warm for a long time,” he says quietly, and then seems to shake off some unnamed feeling. He holds out a hand. “But you’re right. Ignoring it is the best path forward. So we have a deal?”
I nod and reach for his hand. “We do. For Ani’s sake.”
I try not to think about the wave of warmth I feel the minute my skin touches his.
Chapter Twelve
I stare at the camera and wonder how the hell Anika did this.
It’s only a camera. I tell myself that. I’ve done some establishing shots, but those were mostly of me walking into the place and setting up for the demo we’re doing this afternoon. I wasn’t forced to talk, and suddenly talking seems to be a hard thing to do.
“Harper, you’re supposed to look relaxed and ready to get started.” Patrick Dennings stares at me like he can force me to do his will. He’s the head of production and the man knows his stuff, but I don’t think he’s had to deal with someone like me in a long time. He’s worked mostly on reality dating shows and some competition shows where everyone is comfortable with the camera because they’re mostly looking to get into the industry.
I am not.
I’m used to walking into work and getting to the job at hand. Instead I spent an hour in a makeup chair because apparently my complexion is ghost-like, and it’s not that kind of show. I’m not sure why the lead contractor needs glued-on eyelashes that I swear I can see whenever I blink, but I have them. There was also a lot of talk about flyaways. I have those too. Or I had them until someone superglued my hair.
“I am relaxed.” Not true, but I’m pretty much as relaxed as I’m going to get.
“Girl, you look like someone is about to throw you into Squid Games, not hand you a multimillion-dollar mansion to play in.” Patrick has his clipboard in hand and shakes his head the director’s way. “Maybe we should do this as an exterior shot. The fresh air might wake her up.”
“She’s fine,” Anika assures them. “It’s the first day of shooting. You know how hard it is to get into a groove. I nearly faceplanted my first day.”
She had, and worse, it was a live shot. Her near miss with the concrete was broadcast to anyone with an Internet connection. I suppose I’m lucky they’re not doing that here.