Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“It’s not trouble. It’s my job.” Harley’s tone was matter-of-fact, but that actually made me more resolved not to ask him to move the car. I hated being an additional obligation for him on a day that was likely already jam-packed with tasks.
“Thank you, but I’m sure the car will be all right.”
“If you say so, boss.” He shrugged, attention drifting to scan the lot. There wasn’t much he missed. And I liked how he always called me boss or Mr. Sterling and not how others did it as if they wanted something, were scared of me, or were required by social convention. No, Harley always said boss naturally, fondly even, like an inside joke.
I didn’t know him nearly well enough for inside jokes, but I liked pretending. He was my polar opposite: a big, tough ex-military type who moved with innate confidence, had a young-looking face, world-weary eyes, and a plain-speaking manner that suggested humble origins. I was a neurotic TV show creator prone to overusing big words, more interested in suits than armor, and while the gossip rags labeled me a silver fox, no one had ever once called me big and tough. It had to be those differences that kept drawing me in. Curiosity. He was undoubtedly straight, any helpfulness stemming from duty, not interest, but I couldn’t deny taking more notice of security procedures when he was around.
A fact that Cressida, my older sister and fellow producer, had to point out a few hours later when the shooting slowed for a break.
“I saw your favorite guard on my way in. You must be happy,” she said breezily.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Trying to play innocent, I sat straighter in my chair. Angled to face each other, we were sitting in the shadow of one of the trailers, somewhat out of the path of traffic. But the area hummed with activity, even while on break. I didn’t need random production personnel wandering by and hearing Cressida’s teasing.
“Ambrose, you’ve had a hopeless crush for weeks now. Every time he shows up so does your smile. It’s cute.”
“Shush.” I waved my hand. It was nice to have a change from the endless talk about her daughter’s upcoming wedding, but I could do without the teasing. “He wouldn’t think so. Those military types don’t often take well to queer crushes. Not that I have one.”
“Of course not.” Eyes twinkling, she gave a subtle head shake. We were both over forty now, way too old for sibling ribbing games, yet we always seemed to fall into old patterns.
“I’d never get involved with a subordinate in any event.” My tone was all prim, a defensive edge I couldn’t manage to entirely quash.
“The studio has his contract, not us. He’s more of a coworker. I’m not saying you’ve got a chance—”
“Gee, thanks.”
Cressida gave me an epic eye roll only a sister could pull off. “I’m only agreeing with you about him being likely straight. But it’s nice to see you looking again. I thought your ex stole your crushing gene.”
“He didn’t steal a damn thing other than my dignity,” I snapped. I didn’t appreciate the reminder of my disaster of an ex, the latest example of my inability to look before I leaped. “And someday, I’ll learn how to pick them, but until then, if I want to ogle hot, ripped security guards with no intention of acting on it, I will, and I don’t need you teasing me like we’re teens. I can appreciate Harley’s masculine beauty without needing to jump the guy.”
Somewhere during my diatribe, Cressida’s eyes had widened, and as I finished, she let out a little squeak. Most unlike her. Fuck.
“He’s behind me, isn’t he?” I briefly squeezed my eyes closed. Inhaling slowly, I petted Hercules, who was napping in my lap, trying to calm my galloping pulse.
“Mr. Sterling, I’ve got a question about protesters.” Harley stepped around my chair to stand in front of us. I petted Hercules a little faster.
“Protesters?” I latched on to the potential topic change like a life raft. Harley’s impassive face showed absolutely no traces of having heard Cressida and me, but there was no way he hadn’t.
“I’ll handle it.” Cressida stood, her teal pantsuit swishing as she slid her feet back into her silver stilettos.
“What protesters?” I repeated louder this time. I loved Cressida more than life itself, but I couldn’t stand when she got all protective and bossy, which had worsened since my panic disorder diagnosis. I was doing so much better, but she couldn’t seem to see that.
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Cressida patted my arm, making me glare as she continued, “It’s probably a few signs or something. You know fans are falling all over themselves trying to guess which pair is the endgame.”
“They do love speculating and playing favorites.” Our show was famous for an ongoing love quadrangle with multiple characters entangled with each other and limited clues about who would end up with whom when all was said and done. Traveling centered around a time-hopping hero solving past mysteries, and the mix of science fiction and character-driven drama drew an exceptionally invested fandom.