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 my prerogative as your big sister to take care of you.” She continued to rub my back which felt nice and had me trying harder to be less whiny.
“I know. And you’re excellent at the job.” When Cressida removed her hand, I leaned against the nearest car, a banged-up Buick. “But I couldn’t miss today’s shoot.”
Because we were on location, I kept glancing around for Harley, but I tried not to be too obvious. I didn’t need more of Cressida joking on that subject.
“Of course not.” She laughed lightly. “It’s Bishop’s big moment. You had to be here.”
“Totally.” The scene would end with Bishop finally kissing another of his potential love interests, ratcheting up the love quadrangle tension and setting up the season finale cliffhanger as to which direction our time-traveling vigilante would choose. “We’re down to the last few days of shooting for the season. Did one of your assistants handle the end-of-season cake with craft services?”
Food shows were my guilty pleasure for late-night relaxation. I’d been inspired to order a statement cake for the cast and crew after seeing an episode of an LA-based bakery reality show.
“Of course. That was a great idea you had for a show-themed cake. Great way to kick off the break.”
“You’re just looking forward to being all wedding all the time.” I shook my head at her, glad for the excuse to tease her about something not related to the attack. I was very grateful for the distraction of the day’s work as I was over the itchy restless feeling that arose every time the attack came up.
“Speaking of the wedding—” Cressida started but was cut off by the director for the episode striding over. Lu was an award-winner who took her craft super seriously. Her jet-black hair was wound into a tight bun that didn’t move even in the morning wind.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said as she joined us. “I wanted Ambrose’s input on some blocking.”
“Go on, darling.” Cressida waved us away. “My thing will keep.”
Whatever wedding detail Cressida had wanted to discuss got lost in a hectic day of filming. The blocking for the chase scene was tricky, as was perfecting the emotional tenor of the relationships at stake. The actor who played Bishop was a good sport about all the retakes, but it was still a long, exhausting day. I slumped in my chair near the production tent with Hercules on my lap. All around me, various crew members scurried around preparing to wrap the shoot, but no one seemed to take much notice of me. Good. I needed a quiet moment.
“You look tired, boss.”
Harley. I tried to tamp down the thrill that raced through me. He was on duty, after all, looking imposing as always in his black security T-shirt that showed off his arm tats. Even Hercules perked up at his presence, sitting straighter and preening in a clear bid to get attention.
“I’m all right.” I wasn’t going to lie and say I was great, but I also didn’t want to burden him with my petty complaints.
“You’re a terrible liar.” He chuckled as he leaned down to give Hercules a fast pat. “Day two stiffness is no joke. Surprised you made it in.”
“No way was I going to miss it.” I conveniently avoided confirming his assessment, but he was right—I was famously terrible at lying. Instead, I sat straighter, trying to look like I was doing better than I was. “Thanks again for the other day.”
“Don’t mention it.” He waved a hand, and I wasn’t sure if he meant it was no big deal or if he didn’t want to talk about it where others might hear. Probably both. Peering more intently down at me, he narrowed his eyes. “You getting decent sleep? If you need someone to talk with, I know a good therapist specializing in PTSD. They’ve helped several buddies.”
“Thanks. I have a therapist. I scheduled extra sessions.” We were in LA, where even pets had shrinks, but it was still nice to be able to mention therapy with someone nonjudgmental. Rather than Cressida’s suffocating hovering, his concern felt nice, like my favorite sweatshirt. Comforting rather than itchy.
“Good.” He nodded right as Cressida strode toward us. Her smile had just enough calculation to put me instantly on edge, back stiffening against my folding chair.
“Ambrose! Oh, and Harley. Excellent. I need to talk with you both.”
“Is there a problem?” I asked, trying to not let my weariness seep into my voice. Didn’t need to give her another reason to be overprotective.
“A teensy one. Minor even.”
“Cressida.” I gave her a hard stare.
“Fine. There’s been some more negative mail.” She made a vague gesture with her hand that did nothing to dismiss my rising concern. “You don’t need to worry—”
“I want to see it.” My grip on Hercules tightened, and I forced myself to take a deep breath.