Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Which means she’s even more dangerous than I thought…
There are thousands of beautiful women in New York, many of whom would consent to date me, if my matchmaking friend, Deborah, is to be believed. But it’s always been easy to resist her pleas to let her set me up. I’ve lived in the city long enough to know that most of the single people here are obsessed with their jobs, their social status, and how often they can make it to Spirit Cycle in a week. They have very little spare time and what they do have, they don’t waste making an effort to become kinder, gentler people.
Hell, maybe I wouldn’t have either, if Vivian hadn’t ended things the way she did. Her bizarre cruelty made me even more determined to be the man my parents raised me to be, a man with integrity whom they would be proud of…if they were still around.
I glance up at the few stars bright enough to compete with the city lights, where my dad promised me he’d be someday, watching over me. I’m sure he never imagined that time would come when I was only nineteen, a freshman in film school who wasn’t remotely prepared for both of his parents to be killed in a car crash.
For the better part of a year, I was a disaster. Then, slowly, but surely, I discovered improv comedy, started writing sketches for a scripted show, and learned to laugh again, the way Dad would have wanted. As a kid, he always let me stay up late to watch Sketch Night Live with him. We’d laugh so hard we’d wake Mom in the upstairs bedroom.
He would have been so fucking proud that I had a chance to write for our favorite show, and Mom would have loved me for taking care of Greg, even though I was under no obligation to keep my ex’s evil feline.
I can’t help wondering what they would think of Caroline.
If they would see the way she shines from the first moment the way I did…
“The new girl’s incredible on camera,” Smythe, the director of photography says, drawing my attention back to the monitors. “I mean, they both are,” Smythe adds, “but Vermont’s going to steal the show. What a knockout.” He lifts a fist for me to bump. “Good job, boss.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, suppressing the caveman urge to tell him to keep his eyes and his comments about Caroline to himself.
He didn’t say anything inappropriate. She is a knockout and very compelling on camera.
But still…
“Just make sure you upload all the footage to the Cloud before you clock out,” I say, my voice gruff. “We don’t want to lose anything. We’re already behind as it is.”
Smythe salutes me as I leave the tent, not seeming to notice my crankiness. But then, he grew accustomed to my “take no prisoners” style of shooting during the last season of Horny Housewives. He isn’t bothered by it.
I’m glad Caroline isn’t either, a fact she proves by seeking me out to say goodbye before boarding the van to the hotel with the rest of the cast.
“I’m glad we ran into each other in that igloo,” she says, her blue eyes dancing. “Tonight was more fun than I’ve had in ages.”
I smile. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“I did,” she says. “And not just the competition part. The troubleshooting was great, too. Isn’t crisis containment a rush?”
I exhale a ragged breath. “I don’t know if I’d call it a rush, but it kept me awake without my usual post-dinner cup of coffee.”
“Drinking coffee after dinner.” She clucks her tongue. “You city folks are wild.”
“And untamed,” I agree dryly, loving the way the banter flows with her.
She laughs. “I think the roller skates worked out great, though, don’t you?”
“They were perfect,” I say, but I’m not thinking about the skates.
I’m thinking about Caroline Candy Cane.
About her laugh, her quick mind, and how much I want to squeeze her ass again while we kiss.
She really is the entire package.
The entire forbidden, off-limits package.
“Get some sleep,” I say. “Clown cleanup starts early tomorrow.”
She winces. “Yeah, that… Want to give a girl a clue what we’re in for? Just so she can get her ‘afraid of clowns’ game face on before seven a.m.?”
I grin and lift my arms in a gesture of surrender. “I would, but that would be cheating, Ms. Cane. And I’m not a cheater.”
“So, I’m coming to believe,” she says, a warmth in her gaze that makes my stomach twist as she backs away. “See you tomorrow, Leo. Thanks again for the chance.”
“Tomorrow, Caroline,” I say, her name sweeter than cocoa on my lips, proving I need to get my head on straight before filming picks up again.
With that in mind, I finish the last of my oversight duties before turning the circus over to Ainsley and heading home, where I’m sure Greg will be waiting to cackle over his gaslighting victory earlier tonight. A verbal altercation with my demonic pet spawn is just the thing to remind me that romance is a losing game, one that ends with lies, betrayal, and unwanted furballs shitting on your pillowcases.