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He has the nerve to act insulted. “That’s not why I sent them.”
“Sure it’s not.”
“So, are you headed back to Vancouver now?” he asks.
“Don’t worry about where I’m headed or when.”
“I didn’t ask…because…She’s not why I asked.”
“Yeah, but see, I don’t trust you anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” he whines.
“No more visiting Mallory at work.”
“She told you about that too, huh?”
I ignore his question. “I’m not fucking around. If you’re sincere, really sorry, still want to be friends or ever work together again—”
“I am, Chaser. I swear.”
“We’ll see.”
I finally step out of his madhouse and he follows me, stopping to wave at Mallory.
She hesitantly lifts her hand and wiggles her fingers at us but doesn’t get out of her car.
Andrew twitches and bounces from foot to foot. I sense he’s planning to attempt another hug, so I back away.
“We’ll talk?” he asks.
“Give it time.”
“Good luck with the album.”
“Thanks.”
I limp my way over to the car. Mallory starts the engine before I reach her. Guess she’s as eager to get the hell out of here as I am.
“Nice touch having him come outside with you, so I’d know you didn’t kill him,” she says without glancing over.
“Liked that, huh?”
She snorts as she reverses out of his driveway but doesn’t answer.
“He’s seriously fucked up.”
She flicks a no-kidding glance at me before putting the car in drive. “I hadn’t noticed.”
I blow out a long breath. Why the fuck do I feel compelled to tell her this? “He wanted to apologize to you. I guess he realized whatever he said to you was pretty shitty and he’s worried he hurt your feelings.”
Her mouth twists from side to side. “I’m done talking about this, Chaser.”
“Are you sure? You still sound pissed.”
She’s silent while she pulls into our driveway and turns off the ignition. Before answering, she unsnaps her seatbelt and turns to face me. “I hate that you trusted Pamela more than me.”
“That’s not true.” I stare out the window, not sure circling back to last night is the best idea when we should be moving forward. “It wasn’t Pamela.”
“But you said she called you.”
“She did. That’s why I came home.” I tap my knuckles against the window and stare at the shrubs lining the driveway. “When I got here, I realized how stupid that was. I do trust you, Mallory, I swear.”
“But?”
“Those flowers were delivered. He used to joke about giving pink roses to the girl he’s—”
“Ohh,” she breathes out. “You know I don’t care about stuff like that, right?”
“I know.”
“I don’t even like roses.”
I pick up her hand and kiss the back of it. “What do you like?”
“Sunflowers, daisies, irises, tulips…but I don’t need flowers, I need you.”
Should I really keep picking at every last thread? I think we need to if we’re going to move on. “You have to trust me too. When I called, you should’ve told me what happened.”
She fiddles with the radio knob. “You know why I didn’t?”
“You were afraid I’d be mad at you.”
“No.” She squeezes her eyes shut and I can’t help reaching over to skim my knuckles over her cheek. My heart practically jumps out of my chest when she leans into my touch. Finally, she opens her eyes, staring into mine. “I didn’t want to do anything to mess with the recording of the album.” She touches her temple. “To take you out of your creative headspace.”
“Mallory, I appreciate that, but—”
“You don’t understand. I didn’t want anything to delay you finishing the album and coming home.” Tears shine in her eyes and she glances down. “I didn’t want you to be away from me any longer than you had to be.”
I wish we weren’t in the car so I could pull her into my lap right now. “I hate being away from you too, you know that, right?”
“I do.”
She sniffles and a hint of a smile flickers over her lips. “Except for making up with you last night. I want to forget that the last forty-eight hours even happened.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” I rest my hand on her leg. “Come back to Vancouver with me.”
“What? I can’t. I have to be on-set Tuesday.”
“So? That gives us two days. I can’t keep going these long stretches without seeing you. It’s making me crazy.”
“I hate it too.”
I reach over and capture her hand, tugging on it until she looks at me. “I love talking to you every night. But it’s not the same. I need to see you. Touch you. Otherwise, I’m miserable and can’t think straight.”
“Chaser.” She cups my cheek, rubbing her thumb over my ever-present scruff. “I’m always a little lost without you.”
“Let’s make a pact.”
“What kind of pact?”
“No more than…two weeks without seeing each other. No matter what.”
“That’s so long.”
“We’ve been through worse.”
“Ten days?” she counters.
My chest squeezes—she’s as into this idea as I am. “It won’t be easy.”
I lean in, pressing my lips to hers to seal our deal. “Ten days.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Mallory
Tuesday morning, I arrive at the studio early. Pamela slides up next to me in the parking lot, flashing a fake smile. “How was your weekend, Mallory?”
God, I want to strangle her.
Instead, I smile sweetly. “Lovely. Chaser came home and surprised me. We had an amazing time together. Truly electric.” Well, that’s one way to put it. “Then I went back to Vancouver with him.” I yawn, and hold up my arms, in a long, lazy stretch. “I got back late last night and I’m exhausted.”
She blinks rapidly and purses her lips together.
“Well, we’re going to be late. Come on!” I pull my script out of my bag and flip to my one short scene for this week’s show. It’s going to be a boring couple of days of sitting around doing nothing most of the time.
“Can you believe this?” Billie, one of my fellow “lifeguards” wags
her marked-up script at me. “One week I’m possessed by demons. Now, I’m supposed to break up a fight between two rival gangs with the power of my boobs? Who writes this shit?”
I cast a furtive glance around before joining in on her laughter. Good grief, it’s like we’re all begging to be fired from this crazy show.
“Now, Billie.” I adopt the haughty tone of a movie critic. “It shows true artistic creativity that two historically chauvinistic criminal organizations were willing to listen to the heartfelt advice of a five-foot-two inch blonde-haired pixie,” I say with a straight face. “That would totally happen in real life.”
“Holy!” Her eyes bug out and she explodes with laughter. “You should be writing the scripts, Mallory.”
I bet she wouldn’t find it as funny if she knew how much experience I actually have with such criminal organizations. It was part of why the script seemed more over-the-top idiotic to me than usual.
Will I mention it at our table read today? Nope.
“Hey,” Cindy greets me with downcast eyes. “Uh, your friend canceled this weekend. I hope I didn’t do something to—”
“Oh my God, no.” I squeeze her shoulder and she finally looks up at me. “It had nothing to do with you. Honest. I’m sorry I even roped you into it.”
“Okay. Cool. I was worried.”
I open my mouth, then close it. I don’t want to talk about the weekend here. Where certain people might overhear. “Everything is fine,” I promise her.
Chaser
The drama of the weekend’s firmly behind me when I limp my way into the studio Tuesday morning.
“Have a nice trip?” Jacob sneers at me from across the room.
“I did. Thanks for asking, dick. Where were you?”
“Checking out the sights.” He scowls at my foot. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“Cut my foot on some glass. I’ll be fine.”
Mark sits forward, concern etched in his face. “Are you all right to play? You were planning to experiment a little with a distortion pedal on ‘Lush Mountain’.”
“I can make it work.”
